


Somebody that I used to know

by kellsbells



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena returns to the Warehouse after her relationship with Giselle ends. She re-joins the team to find that Pete and Myka are together. Myka doesn't want anything to do with Helena, but they are forced to work together on an artefact hunt in Scotland. Sort-of fix it fic that I've been working on for a while, on and off, as I try to deal with the abomination that was Instinct... Feedback is, as always, most appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

Helena came back. After the travesty that was her life with Nate and Adelaide, her dalliance with Giselle and New York, her attempts to live a ‘normal’ life away from the Warehouse – she came back. The Warehouse was still in a state of potential transition; negotiations had been held between the Regents and authorities in several countries, but no agreement had yet been made. China was one of the frontrunners to be the new home of the Warehouse, but the US was still very much in the running, as was Canada. There were talks of moving to Alaska or Arizona, or any number of places in the empty spaces of Canada. But for now, it remained in South Dakota.

 

Without Leena, the Bed and Breakfast was as pretty as ever, but that sense of welcome, of love, of home – that was gone. Doubly so now that Myka was – well, she was half of Myka-and-Pete, now. She was no longer Helena’s Myka. She was polite, caring as always, and professional. Since Helena’s return, Myka had saved her life exactly four times, once even taking a bullet meant for Helena. In the leg, but a bullet nonetheless. But once the mission was done, she wrapped herself up in Pete, or a book - anything but Helena. 

 

Their conversation upon Helena’s return was friendly, but void of anything other than the sentiment of two old friends – people who used to mean something to one another, but no longer did. Before Boone, Myka had been unable to hide her feelings from Helena – her blushes, her sharp intakes of breath when Helena stepped too close – and Helena had wondered if any of those old feelings existed anymore. It was plainly evident once she returned to the Warehouse that they did not – either that, or Myka had mastered the art of hiding her emotions. When Helena experimentally allowed herself to approach Myka’s personal space, there was no blushing, no dilation of her pupils. Just polite disinterest and a hint – just a tiny hint – of contempt.

 

_“When she came back from Boone, she was like a shell. She did her job, but her spark, her joy – all of it was gone, Helena. Leena’s death hurt her, but what you did that day – it broke her. And now she’s moved on. That’s what you wanted, right? To break your bonds with the Warehouse, with all of us? Well, congratulations. You did it.”_

 

Claudia’s answer to her attempt at a circumspect enquiry as to Myka’s wellbeing on day three of her return cleared matters up rather quickly. Claudia herself was growing into the amazing young woman that Helena had known she would. She would be a wonderful Caretaker – her intuition, her intelligence, her spark – they would last for centuries, perhaps. (Helena was never quite sure how long a Caretaker could live. Mrs Frederic had not yet been Caretaker when Helena herself was born, but she believed that the Caretaker of her time had passed when the Warehouse moved to the Americas.) For now, Claudia was an Agent – a frighteningly competent one – but no longer a friend. She watched Helena with thinly veiled contempt (sometimes omitting the veil entirely), brightening up only when they discussed technical matters. She was teaching Helena a great deal about computers and some of the newer technologies that Helena still hadn’t come to grips with since her unBronzing, and together they had invented some ‘nifty’ devices, as Claudia put it – devices that had made life in the Warehouse much easier. But Claudia’s eyes narrowed as they followed Helena – not warily, for Helena was no longer any sort of threat to anyone – but as if wondering how quickly she would flee, this time, from her responsibilities. Helena didn’t blame her. She saw that same look in her own eyes most mornings in the bathroom mirror.

 

To Helena’s surprise, her closest friends now were Pete, Steve and Arthur. Pete did not hold grudges – he didn’t need to, now that he and Myka were so happy together and Kelly Hernandez was but a distant memory – and he had a great deal of respect for Helena's willingness to sacrifice herself for the Warehouse and for the team. Discussing comic books and monster trucks, however, did not fulfil Helena’s needs for intelligent discourse, and she yearned for the days when she and Myka would sit up late into the night before the fire in the small library, discussing literature or philosophy or history. But for now, midichlorians and adamantium were the topics on offer (and how it galled her that she knew in detail what both of those words meant). Steve was a bastion of serenity, a wonderful, pleasant soul to spend time with. His allegiance was with Claudia for the most part but he did not share Claudia’s antipathy to Helena, preferring to make his own judgements, apparently. Arthur was surprisingly soft and friendly now, after all that had gone before. He still grumbled and needled her endlessly, but that was their ‘thing’, as Pete termed it. They communicated in grumpy monosyllables and chess games that stretched for weeks at a time. She thought that even Caturanga might have found Arthur a challenge in the game – he was a shrewd opponent, and, once he had let his guard down enough with her to show her his true mastery of the game, one that she had so far been unable to best. The talents he had employed at the NSA were evident in his chess game – he thought more steps ahead than even Helena herself was able to. It was little wonder that he had been able to see through her so thoroughly back in the beginning. She shook her head in disbelief, occasionally, at her arrogance in believing she could blithely talk her way into their lives back then without attracting suspicion. She had severely underestimated these people; not only Myka, who had thwarted her at Yellowstone with a weapon so simple as love, but also Pete, whose seemingly shallow exterior hid a shrewd mind. Leena – dear, sweet Leena – with her beautiful eyes, had seen straight through Helena’s dissembling to the pain beneath. She had tried to help Helena, back then, sitting up with her in the early hours of the morning, never speaking unless Helena spoke to her, just offering silent comfort and endless cups of tea. Helena had been so bitter back then that she was unable to accept the comfort or to open up as Leena so clearly wanted her to. She wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if she had ever, once, trusted these people to help her. She also wondered what could have been had she taken what Myka had so plainly offered on that driveway in Wisconsin rather than hiding in a suburban life with Nate and Adelaide. But there was nothing to be done for that now; her cowardice had consequences, and the pain of watching Myka so happy and content with Pete was exactly what she deserved.

 

_“You know, she’s strong,” Leena said, as she studied Helena’s aura carefully._

_“Who?” Helena asked, one eyebrow raised._

_They were sitting in the library and Leena had come to join Helena, bringing tea and her calming presence._

_“Myka. She’s strong, but it’s brittle, her strength. She doesn’t talk about it much, but I think her father… I think she built up her defences against him, and it left her a little… fragile. So she’s strong, but I think that if she took a hit in the wrong place, or from the wrong person,” she paused to take a sip of her tea, gazing at Helena calmly through lowered lashes, “she would shatter. So be careful of her, won’t you?”_

_Helena stared at her, wide-eyed. It was hard to tell how much Leena could see, with her skill for reading auras. Was she saying that she knew what Helena had planned? Would Helena need to take steps to deal with her? She did not want to hurt the young woman – Leena had done nothing wrong – but in the circumstances, she was going to perish with the rest of the world anyway. Would it be such a bad thing, to put the innkeeper out of her misery earlier, in order to reach her goal?_

_Leena coughed politely to regain her attention. If she knew the direction of Helena’s thoughts, she made no comment on them._

_“She cares about you a lot, HG. She just got over Sam’s death. Just – just be careful of her, please.”_

_Leena stood and touched her arm for a long moment, looking closely at her aura. Helena tensed. She did not want to hurt this wonderful young woman. However, Leena simply squeezed her arm and smiled sympathetically at whatever she saw in Helena’s aura, and then went off to bed. Helena breathed a silent sigh of relief._

_It was only later, after Yellowstone and after Boone, that she remembered Leena’s words. In her Regent prison, she had no way to work through those issues or think anything through. But the night Myka told her to make Boone her home, she cried herself to sleep in the guest room in Nathan’s house. She had done exactly what Leena had said she would; she had shattered Myka Bering._

 

Abigail Cho was a godsend – not only a friend but a counsellor, a wise and clever woman who had, in the past eight months, untwisted Helena’s mind to such an extent that she almost felt like she had adjusted to this time. She almost felt normal when it came to matters other than her relationship with Myka. Normal, however, was a word that she could barely think nowadays, without being overcome with shame and bitterness at her own cowardice. A ‘normal’ life – the words she had thrown at Myka, the words that had forever ruined anything they could have had together. The sheer unadulterated pain in Myka’s face when Helena told her that she felt like she belonged for the first time in a century – it still featured in her nightmares. The lie in _that_ statement would have hit Steve so hard he’d have doubled over. The only place she’d felt at home? She knew, and Myka knew, _exactly_ where she felt at home. In Myka’s arms. With Myka’s lips on hers, with the warmth of her tall body pressed against Helena’s. Of all the evils Helena Wells had inflicted upon the world, upon other people, somehow that one cruel line was the worst. She had dismissed the most significant relationship of her life with those words. She had apologised to Myka a thousand times in her head for that line, but could never make the words come out of her mouth, not in the face of Myka’s contentment with Pete, in the face of Claudia’s contempt, of Pete’s well-meaning friendship. It was too late now, and when she heard Myka cry out her release in Pete’s arms through the thin walls of the B &B, she bore the pain stoically, as the consequence of her cowardice.

 

So Helena tinkered. She built, she learned, and she created. She was beginning to earn fairly large sums of money from inventions and innovations she’d created since her return to the Warehouse. Since Boone, she had written several mystery novels under the name of Emily Lake. It was as good a name as any other, given that she could not use hers, and when she saw Myka pick up and then drop one of her review copies with a look of disgust on her face, the pain Helena experienced felt real, deserved – righteous.

 

Abigail told her off for this line of thought repeatedly, her self-flagellation. She had made her penance, and any pain she had caused Myka was in the past, it appeared. So why not make her peace and move on? Myka and Pete were planning a move to Denver once the Warehouse’s fate was agreed. They were planning to return to the Secret Service, to take on less active roles - perhaps in the investigation of counterfeiting - and to start a family. Myka didn’t meet Helena’s eyes when Peter announced _that_ little gem one morning at breakfast – Helena knew it was nothing to do with any sort of shame about her relationship with Peter but more to do with the fact that Helena was well aware that Myka did not want children. They had talked about the subject at length one night after Helena had opened up to Myka about Christina. Myka had said clearly that she didn’t hate children, but was, in fact, mostly annoyed by the little buggers and had no desire to create any more. Pete did want children, however, and it was plain that Myka had capitulated to his wishes. A decision made in love, Helena was sure. But it still felt like a betrayal of everything that Myka was, and Helena suddenly felt as if she understood how Myka felt, that day in Boone. Because Myka had known that Helena was hiding, was lying about who she was, and now here Myka was, doing the same while Helena watched helplessly. (She had almost, following their little announcement, asked them if they smelled fudge. It seemed more likely to Helena that an artefact would have caused Myka to want children than that she had simply changed her mind because of her love for Pete. Steve had caught Helena’s eye that day, seeing the incredulous look on her face, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. So she smoothed her face, plastered a smile on it and wished them every happiness. Then she went to her room and cried herself to sleep silently.)

 

Helena worked hard in the service of the Warehouse, and smelled apples almost all the time she spent within its walls. The Regents had talked about adding her to their ranks, and it was to be discussed at some sort of annual general meeting later in the year. Helena thought she might be rather more likely to end up as the new Artie, in the new Warehouse. A position that Myka might once have filled, before her more recent revelations about raising a brood of Bering-Lattimer children. Helena would go wherever the Warehouse went, simply because she had nowhere else to go. She had no-one. It was a bitter pill to swallow, to have come to this time and to have nothing to show for it.

 

It had been eight months since her return, and this most recent case was a puzzle that she and Myka were working on together. Something was causing people to disappear in Scotland, near the site of the Lockerbie air crash. There was an unusual component to it – all of the disappeared, before their disappearances, had begun to speak an archaic form of Gaelic before wandering off, never to be seen again. Since Helena was the only person in the Warehouse with even a smattering of Gaelic, she and Myka had been sent off to investigate. Myka was, as usual, perfectly prepared and knowledgeable about the area, which had been the location of an infamous plane crash in 1988. The plane was blown up in a terrorist attack. Myka had encyclopaedic knowledge of the crash of course, just in case it was related to the artefact, and she had read all of the police and witness reports concerning the disappearances. On the flight on the way over, she had entertained Helena with a recounting of the Battle of Dryfe Sands that occurred in 1593 close to Lockerbie. The conversation had ended quickly, however, when Helena suggested timidly that perhaps they might do some sight-seeing once the case was over. Myka’s face, so animated when she was talking about the clan battles of the 16th century in this part of Scotland, had smoothed and become that hateful blank that Helena so despised and deserved.

 

“I think I’d rather get back home. Pete will be missing me.”

 

“Of course,” Helena had murmured, her blunt fingernails digging into her palms so hard that she drew blood in a line of perfect crescents. The remainder of their flight was silent. Helena feigned sleep, leaning as far away from Myka as she reasonably could. Myka remained oblivious, reading and making notes for the last three hours of the flight. The scratch of her pen against the paper of her notepad was both soothing and irritating. That she could be so oblivious, could be so happy – it hurt, it stung Helena deeply, but she knew she was deserving of such dismissal. She had turned her back on even a friendship with Myka, the person who she desired more fiercely than any other in the world – the person who she needed more than any other – so she had no cause to complain about Myka’s lack of interest in any sort of a relationship with her.

 

Their investigation was not going well. Two more people – children, this time - had disappeared since their arrival here in Lockerbie. The people were close-mouthed, uninterested in discussing the disappearances with Sassenachs. People in this area had long memories, and Helena’s accent in particular offended some of them greatly. The fact that the referendum for Scottish independence had failed recently had increased anti-English sentiment somewhat, and she had caught more than a few mutters and filthy looks directed her way. She had been tempted to try her Emily Lake accent again to avoid any further difficulties, but Myka’s look of amused derision when she suggested it had headed that one off rather quickly. (Surely it hadn’t been _that_ bad?)

 

Helena sighed. They were ensconced in a bed and breakfast on the high street and it was obvious that they weren’t going to get anywhere for the rest of the day. A storm was heading in from the Irish Sea and the owner, Mrs Carruthers, had advised them to stay indoors for now, as storms in the area could be a little fierce for outsiders. Helena watched as Myka calmly settled herself on the chair at the room’s only desk with her laptop. She was soon typing at speed, probably emailing Claudia or Abigail or chatting with Pete on one of those live chat applications that Claudia had taught Helena about. Helena’s head was buzzing with ideas and theories about what kind of an artefact could have caused the disappearances, but Myka was clearly not in the mood for conversation – or at least not with Helena. Helena picked up her coat and muttered something about clearing her head as she left. Myka’s head barely lifted, and she waved a hand dismissively, continuing to type with the other. As Helena turned the collar of her trench coat up against the damp air, she thought that she deserved that wave just as much as she deserved every other dismissal she’d endured at Myka’s hands over this last eight months. She made herself sick with it all, the guilt, the self-flagellation, and her yearning for the opportunity she’d thrown away. She told herself that it was perhaps time to move on and try to embrace her new life at the Warehouse. There were people in the world other than Myka Bering, and perhaps one of them could be someone who could make Helena happy, the way that Pete made Myka happy. It was a thought to hold on to as she reeled from the gut shot that was Myka’s airy, preoccupied wave.

 

She walked through some of the back streets until concrete gave way to neatly trimmed lawn and then the rough grasses of the Scottish countryside. She pulled her coat more tightly around her as the chill in the air grew more pronounced. The change in the air pressure was tangible – it was clear that this storm was going to be severe. She welcomed it – any chance to feel cleansed right now would be wonderful. She wondered if Myka would notice if she came back drenched. Probably not, she reasoned. Her partner for this investigation was focused intently on her future with Pete and the Bering-Lattimer babies. Helena felt herself grimace and walked more quickly across fields, climbing over small fences and becoming more and more lost by the second. She couldn’t possibly have cared less.

 

A short time later she found herself on the banks of a Loch – Castle Loch, if she remembered correctly from her quick perusal of a map on the plane. She spotted the ruins of the castle nearby –she couldn’t remember the name. Myka would, she thought bitterly. She decided that the ruins were as good a place as any to wait out the storm. Perhaps when she returned Myka would be asleep and she wouldn’t have to bear the weight of the woman’s relentless indifference. She found a convenient section of wall to sit on and hummed a tune as she watched the waves on the Loch swell with the rising wind. Had she listened to herself instead of obsessing over Myka, she might have noticed that her half-sung, half-whispered words were not in English, but in Gaelic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka discovers that Helena is gone, and Helena is lost in her own mind

* * *

Myka was typing up her report after a short online chat with Pete. He was pushing her to leave the Warehouse before it moved, to move on to Denver and start their new life. After his whole freak out about the Warehouse moving, he’d become surprisingly okay about the potential end of their time here, and was now eager to start their planned life in Denver. Myka thought it was weird, but Claudia said that she thought that a lot of his problem with the idea of losing the Warehouse had been the idea of losing Myka, and now that they were a couple, that wasn’t an issue anymore.  Myka was unsure about leaving, unsure about all of it. Pete made her happy, had filled her life with caring and sweetness and love for almost a year now. But despite going along with his stated intention for them to start a family, she wasn’t quite ready to take the step. She wanted to be sure. She had made so many mistakes before, with Sam, with Helena. Even though her time with Helena had in fact only amounted to a few hurried kisses in the Regent Sanctum in Hong Kong and afterwards at the B&B, the relationship they’d shared had somehow become more significant in Myka’s mind – in her heart - than her time with Sam. It had, however, clearly meant little to Helena. As the door of their room closed behind Helena, Myka breathed a sigh of relief. Keeping up her veneer of pleasant indifference was wearing on Myka. She wasn’t in love with Helena, not any more. But the woman’s presence reminded her of the worst betrayal she’d ever experienced. Not, as one might think, the betrayal of Yellowstone, Egypt, the Trident. The betrayal that mattered was the one that Helena had inflicted upon her on a suburban driveway in Wisconsin. Helena had made it quite clear that day that her time with Myka meant nothing and that the man watching from behind her – the man who Myka honestly couldn’t distinguish from his Neanderthal counterpart while he was under the influence of the prehistoric jawbone – _that_ man and his child had become her home. Myka had offered everything that day, with her words, her eyes, and Helena had rejected it all. So she moved on. After her cancer scare, she decided to try to move on in earnest. Pete was in love with her, and he was so easy to love. He was attentive and loving, he made her laugh, he was good in bed. What more did she want? The passionate kind of love that she’d always dreamt about, had read about in books since she was a little kid? That had gotten her nowhere. She wasn’t settling for Pete. She was _choosing_ Pete.

 

After the first clap of thunder, she was mildly concerned. After an hour of torrential rain and thunderclaps so loud they rattled the ancient windows in their frames, she was seriously worried. And after watching sizzling lightning dance around the fields behind the B&B, she was terrified. Where the hell was Helena? And why wasn’t she back here, safe, where she belonged? Myka tried calling Helena’s Farnsworth, but it only buzzed from her carry-on luggage in the corner. Myka’s cell had no service, and the phone in the room couldn’t reach Helena’s cell. She called Claudia on the Farnsworth for advice, and Claudia just told her, with an indifference that chilled Myka, that Helena could look after herself. If she could get herself into trouble, she could get back out of it. Myka knew that Claudia’s antipathy towards Helena was a result of Helena’s actions in Wisconsin and the effect she had had on Myka, but it made her feel guilty nonetheless. When Helena returned to the Warehouse, she was so broken and empty that Myka felt sorry for her, despite how much Helena had hurt her. It was an effort not to reach out, to try to make it better. Myka had withdrawn into the safety of her relationship with Pete and her books and her work to ignore the threat that Helena represented. It had worked. It was working. She was happy, and Helena was doing her thing, well on her way to becoming a Regent, it appeared. So why couldn’t Myka stop thinking about her? Why the hell was she so worried now, when Helena was just out for a walk – or more likely, in the nearest bar with a nice Glenfiddich and a willing partner? That thought made Myka’s fists clench, so she turned her mind back to her report and pushed the thought of Helena away with what felt like a physical effort. She forced herself to go to bed even though Helena had still not returned long after midnight, and eventually succumbed to sleep through sheer exhaustion.

 

The following morning, she woke with a start. Something – a song – had been playing in her dream, calling her. It had made her feel intensely happy, filled her with serenity. She could smell something familiar in the air, something that made her heart clench and relax simultaneously. She didn’t understand the words, but when she woke it was with the sense of having lost something precious. That thought turned her mind to Helena’s disappearing act the night before. Myka sat up in bed and turned her head, fully expecting to see Helena in the other bed, probably sleeping off a hangover. The other bed, however, was neatly made and Helena’s small overnight case was in the same place, unopened. She had clearly not returned, and while the bitterness in Myka said that she’d probably just found someone to spend the night with, something in her stomach twisted with worry. Something was wrong, and she was fairly certain that it was to do with the disappearances. She was fairly sure that Helena was now one of the disappeared.

 

She spent the morning checking with the various people they’d already interviewed to see if anyone had seen Helena. She had not spent any time in any of the local bars, from what Myka could determine, nor had anyone seen her, bar Mrs Carruthers, who had seen her walk off briskly in the direction of the Loch. Myka took a walk through fields and long grass to the Loch, noticing the nearby ruined castle. She searched carefully through the ruins, finding nothing until she reached a small wall with a view of the Loch. There was something dark on top of the wall. Helena’s brown trench coat – the one that she’d worn all those years ago at Tamalpais University – she’d left it behind. Myka’s heart sank. There was no way that Helena would remove her coat in the middle of a thunderstorm and wander off, not unless she was under the influence of an artefact or under duress. The coat was heavy, sodden, and Myka brought it back to the B&B, wondering what the hell she was going to do now. She called Artie on her Farnsworth and he started doing some intensive research on what was causing the disappearances. Claudia had started the research before they left - rather half-heartedly because she was in the midst of a Warehouse computer upgrade – but there was still a stack of papers next to Artie’s desk that could take days to comb through. In the meantime, Myka needed to work out where Helena might have gone, or might have been taken to.  Pete had just arrived back at the Warehouse after his most recent snag – a saddle in the Gobi desert that caused camels to go mad and attack their riders.

 

Myka spent the remainder of the day wandering the ruins and the banks of the Loch, searching for any other signs of Helena. Finally admitting to herself that Helena was gone, Myka sat looking out across the Loch on the wall where she had found Helena’s coat. It was beautiful here, so still. It made her thoughts settle, for a moment. Her hair was, for a change, blown back from her face instead of tangling across it and getting in her mouth. The air was clear and the sun was bright after the stormy weather of the previous day. Myka relished the momentary sense of peace, but it was shattered all too quickly when her Farnsworth buzzed, with Claudia at the other end.

 

“Hey Claud, what’s up?” Myka asked, noting her slightly smeared mascara and dishevelled appearance.

 

“Hey,” Claudia said brokenly.

 

“Claudia, what’s wrong?” Myka’s brow creased in concern. She had only ever seen Claudia cry a handful of times – Claudia was even less likely to cry than Myka herself.

 

“I…Artie told me that HG is missing. I’ve been such an asshole to her, Mykes.”

 

“It’s okay, Claudia. I know you were…on my side. She’s going to be fine.”

 

“No, Myka. She’s not,” Claudia said, choking on her tears. “They just found the first three people at the bottom of the Loch. Some kid was diving, showing off to his friends, and he almost drowned because his foot got tangled in their clothes. They were wasted away to nothing, Myka. They only disappeared a week ago.”

 

She began to cry in earnest, harsh sobs that tore at Myka’s heart. But so, too, did her news. This beautiful Loch, the very body of water that she was looking across, held the bodies of some of the missing. And Helena might be there too, soon, if they didn’t find out what this artefact was.

 

Myka offered a few quiet words of comfort, texting Steve as she spoke and asking him to find Claudia and keep her company. When he showed up in the background, she felt able to go and leave Claudia to him. Then she let her own sobs out, the fear eating at her insides. Helena – her Helena – was, once again, in mortal danger. And she had no clue, no earthly idea how to fix this. Dammit, she wasn’t _supposed_ to care this much! Helena was just her colleague. She still cried, still wept out her fear of losing the woman she…cared for? Knew better than anyone else? After a few moments, she wiped her face and then walked back into Lockerbie to speak to the local police about the discovery of the bodies.

 

~

 

Helena awoke in a glade of trees, a song whispering through the leaves, beckoning her onwards. It filled her with an intense peace, a contentment that she hadn’t felt since…well, she didn’t care to think too clearly about the _last_ time she’d felt that way, but she had most certainly felt this serenity when holding her beautiful daughter in her arms. She stood carefully, looking around at her unfamiliar surroundings. But for the different trees, this could be the same forest in which Pete and Myka had argued over the destruction of the Janus coin. The sky was bright, devastatingly so, and the trees were greener than she’d ever seen. The air was clear and filled her lungs with what felt like pure oxygen, lightening her heart with every breath. She picked a direction at random and began to walk on the springy grass. After a moment she removed her boots, walking barefoot in the cool grass. She felt unburdened, free, for the first time in what felt like a century.

 

She walked through the trees, hearing birdsong that reminded her of home. The birds of South Dakota were somewhat different from those of Kent and London. She wondered vaguely how she’d come to awaken in these woods, but aside from a sketchy memory of a ruined castle, she had little idea of where she was – or why she was here. It didn’t worry her, however, and she continued to walk. She heard the musical laughter of children up ahead, and she arrived in a meadow filled with long grasses, almost up to her waist. A group of children were playing hide and seek amongst the grasses.

 

“Mummy, have you come to play hide and seek too?”

 

Helena turned, smiling, and her daughter ran into her arms with a giggle.

 

“Of course, my darling. Whatever you desire!” Helena said grandly, squeezing Christina tightly. Any thoughts of ruined castles or how she’d arrived here disappeared, and she followed Christina, relishing the opportunity to do so. She didn’t know why, but it felt like she hadn’t seen Christina for some time. She resolved to remedy the situation – after all, her daughter was her greatest joy. She played in the long grasses with Christina and her friends to the soundtrack of laughter and playful squeals and a song that she couldn’t quite hear in the background.

 

~

 

The police were unable to assist Myka without an official request from Interpol, they said. But after Myka called Artie on the Farnsworth, they suddenly changed their tune, welcoming her as a ‘consultant’ on the case. The chief constable had the slightly dazed expression that Myka recognised as being the result of a visit from Mrs Frederic. She wondered if the woman had disappeared on him as she usually did. That would account for his wide eyes. After Myka’s status was clarified, the police shared the information they had, which was not much. These three bodies – the first to disappear – were essentially desiccated. They had rehydrated slightly during their time in the lake, but if they’d been found on dry land they would have been mummies. They were still wearing the clothes they disappeared in, and nothing obvious had been stolen. As Myka examined them, however, she was assailed by the smell of fudge. She called Artie to confirm that an artefact was definitely at play and retired to the B&B to chew over the facts and try to ignore Helena’s trench coat, which was still hanging on the small radiator in their shared room.

 

Pete arrived the following morning, exhausted from taking the red-eye straight after arriving back from his own snag, but happy to see her. He was worried about Helena, but not panicking.

 

“HG can handle herself, babe,” he said, kissing the back of her neck and wrapping his arms around her waist reassuringly. She let herself relax into his arms, but something inside her told her that he was wrong. Helena couldn’t handle this, whatever it was. It was going to take all of their efforts to get her back before Helena, too, ended up at the bottom of the Loch.

 

After two more days of fruitless interviews and the discovery of another four bodies, Myka was frantic. Helena was days from death at best – she could already be dead – and Myka’s memory, her skill as an investigator – it was getting them nowhere. Pete hadn’t had any vibes, other than a mild one from the night Helena went missing.

 

“She is okay, Myka. You need to stop panicking. It isn’t helping,” he said mildly, chewing on a blade of grass as they stood on the banks of the Loch. Myka was pacing back and forth with her fists clenched.

 

“I know that, Pete,” she snapped. “I’m not doing it on purpose. I just feel like she’s – like she can’t help herself, this time.”

 

He turned to look at her, taking in her rigid posture, her clenched fists.

 

“Look, Mykes. I get that you have this protective thing with her, after everything. But she can take care of herself. She’s a supergenius. Whatever this is, she’s the best person to have been taken. She will probably come wandering out of the ruins with the rest of the disappeared following her, and you’ll feel stupid for worrying so much.”

 

Myka ground her teeth.

 

“I don’t have a… protective thing, or whatever. I just have a vibe, I guess, that she’s not okay. Why can’t you trust me? I trust _you_ when you tell me that something isn’t right.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at that.

 

“I know you do, babe. But you’ve never had vibes before.”

 

At her glare, he held his hands up in surrender.

 

“If you say she’s not okay, I believe you. What can I do to help?”

 

Dammit. He was so reasonable – it was making her anger melt away.

 

“I don’t know, Pete,” she said, sighing. She went to sit down on the wall, running her fingertips over the rough texture of the ancient stone. Pete sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him with another sigh. He was such a good man. She loved him so much. But if she was honest, she was pretty sure she didn’t love him the way he loved her. The way he looked at her sometimes – it took her breath away, while simultaneously making something in her squirm queasily. Because she knew that she didn’t look at him like that. She was content, she was happy. But she didn’t feel that joy that he did. Sometimes that was okay; she could tell herself that being content was more than enough. But sometimes when she saw that look in his eye the guilt was overwhelming. She had always thought of herself as a fairly decent human being, someone on the right side of the line. But lately, with Pete, she felt like the coward she had accused Helena of being all those years ago at Yellowstone.

 

~

 

_“Bering and Wells,” Myka said, smiling, and she bent down to pick up an errant bishop from the floor of the Sanctum._

_Helena continued to reset the chess game, her mind concentrated on the task, and her heart lighter following her brief conversation with Myka. The woman always knew how to stop her in her tracks. She had been so self-pitying, such a bloody martyr. Get off your cross, indeed. She chuckled, and Myka looked at her with a quizzically raised eyebrow. She simply smiled in response, her happiness in that moment shining through, and suddenly Myka was there, filling her vision, and her mouth was hot and wet and open against Helena’s. Her tall, lean body was pressing firmly against Helena’s, and her hands were in Helena’s hair. For a moment Helena was frozen in surprise, but her body recovered more quickly than her brain, returning the kiss fervently. She grasped Myka’s hips, pulling her closer, and within seconds the Sanctum was filled with small moans and panting breaths. She moved her hands under Myka’s leather jacket, relishing the warmth of the skin under the sheer top Myka was wearing, tasting Myka’s tongue against hers. Helena’s body was responding enthusiastically to Myka’s closeness, and it was clear that unless they slowed things down, the sanctity of this Sanctum was about to be violated rather thoroughly. Helena pulled back reluctantly, resting her head in the crook of Myka’s neck._

_“What…why did you stop?” Myka demanded, her hands twisted in Helena’s shirt._

_“I’m sorry darling, but we have other matters to attend to for now…”_

_Myka shook her head, clearly just as dazed as Helena herself was, and pulled away slowly._

_“I…I guess you’re right,” she said, wide-eyed and her chest heaving._

 

_Helena cursed the need to return to the task at hand, but they were both here because of the Warehouse, after all, and saving it came before their personal needs and desires, especially when their friends were in danger. She looked shyly at Myka, smiling, and found an answering warm smile on Myka’s face. She wished fervently, in the years following that day, that she had given voice to the thought that echoed through her being at that moment._

Helena woke, her eyes opening slowly to the warm, bright sunlight of a London summer. Her brain fought to work out where she was, how that connected to her dreams. A high pitched squeal from the next room had her out of bed and moving before she could think. Christina.

 

The scene in her daughter’s room was not one of devastation, as her mind was half thinking, but rather of silliness and joy. Sophie, the short, slightly squat redhead from Argyll who was teaching Helena some Gaelic in her spare time, was swinging Christina around in her arms – hence the squealing.

 

“Now, my darling, that’s hardly the way to wake your mother gently!” Helena chastised Christina with a chuckle. Sophie smiled softly, wishing Helena a good morning with eyes politely averted from her nightwear. It was a little scandalous, Helena realised, with her ankles clearly visible. But it was nothing to the lingerie she had worn…when had she worn it? Her mind was cloudy on the details, but it didn’t seem to matter, not while she was here with her daughter on a bright summer’s day, full of promise and laughter and music that lingered just beyond her hearing.

 

She smiled and picked Christina up, cuddling the small body to her. Christina began to wriggle, protesting.

 

“You’re getting too big for this, my darling,” Helena said, kissing Christina’s face thoroughly, much to the girl’s disgust. She wriggled away and ran off, presumably to play with her dolls. Helena went to change, smiling. She really was never happier than when she was with Christina.

 

_“Really?” asked a sardonic voice in her head. It was accompanied by the image of a young woman, red-headed like Sophie, but straight and with an unusual streak of bright colour in it. “You can’t think of a time when you were just as happy?”_

_The face of a curly-haired woman with bright, clear eyes and a luminous smile filled her vision. Those lips – she had felt those lips against her own. She was…who was she?_

Christina’s high, piping voice from downstairs drew Helena from her reverie and she hastened to get dressed and ready for the day ahead with her daughter. Thoughts of strange but familiar women were chased from her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka continues to panic, Pete sees more than he says, Claudia comes to help, and Helena dreams on.

Myka was in bed beside Pete, her hand in her hair, pulling at the roots. There was still no sign of Helena and the research at the Warehouse was getting them nowhere.

 

“Babe, you have to calm down. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

 

Pete’s voice in the darkness startled her. She thought he was asleep.

 

“I know. I just…I guess I have a bad feeling about all this.”

 

“Me too,” he admitted quietly. He did not add that his bad feeling was related to her, not to Helena.

 

She sighed and he put his hand on her waist, encouraging her to roll over, to lie under his arm and be comforted. She didn’t want his comfort right then, but she gave in as she always did. He was so good, and he cared so much. She kissed him softly, trying to drive away the terror that she felt every time she thought about Helena and those bodies, dessicated yet swollen, tangled in the weeds at the bottom of the Loch. She pulled Pete to her, lost herself in his body, and afterwards she hid her face in the crook of his neck to avoid seeing Helena’s trench coat, still on the radiator opposite the bed.

 

_She was in her room at the B &B, standing with her back to the door. They had managed to defeat Sykes with Artie’s last-minute idea of using Ghandi’s dhoti, and everyone was safe. Helena was herself again, no longer silly Emily Lake with her terrible Midwestern accent and awful bright clothes. Myka leaned back against the door, touching her lips unconsciously. She had surprised herself earlier, in the Sanctum. Helena had looked at her, her face open and serene, and her smile – it was sheer, unadulterated happiness. She had never seen Helena that happy, and that **she** was the cause of it – it filled her with an intense joy that had her on her feet and moving, kissing Helena before she could think it through. The feeling of Helena pressed against her, the way her lips had moved against Myka’s with all the fire Myka had always imagined – it was indescribable. And now here she was, hiding upstairs while Helena sat quietly with the rest of the team, no doubt awaiting the Regents to come and take her away again – away from Myka. _

_There was a quiet knock at the door behind her, and Myka turned, opening it quickly. It was Helena, looking at her uncertainly with her leather jacket over her arm._

_“Hello, darling,” she said, hesitantly, and that was, apparently, the catalyst that Myka’s brain needed. She pulled Helena into the room, closing the door and pressing the woman against the door, kissing her again as if they’d always been doing this, as if their mouths had always been together, hot and sliding against one another. The leather jacket had ended up on the floor, and it still hung in Myka’s closet at the B &B. They had barely ten minutes before one of Kosan’s burly guards was knocking on the door, and then Helena was gone, and Myka didn’t see her again until Boone. _

She woke with a start, her heart in her mouth. Her Farnsworth was buzzing noisily on the desk. She got out of bed to answer it, careful to angle it up and away from her naked body and Pete’s bare ass which was currently hanging out of their bed. Her fiancé had many positive attributes, but grace was not among them.

 

“Myka. We may have a lead on this artefact.”

 

It was Artie, looking exhausted, with his glasses askew on his face and his eyebrows pointing every which way. Relief flooded through her at his words.

 

“Okay, Artie. Tell me more.”

 

“I take it you will have heard of the Pied Piper of Hamelin?” Artie asked. She nodded impatiently.

 

“Good. Well, it appears that, like most fairy tales, that one too is grounded in fact. There is an artefact – an old wooden flute, we believe. It has turned up in several countries over the last several centuries. It apparently has the ability to pull the person hearing the music into some sort of dream state, an alternate reality that it draws from their memories, something that will make them want to remain in that reality. While they are in the dream, however, the flute slowly drains them of their life force, giving it instead to the person who is using the artefact. The wielder then becomes stronger and more successful. So one of you needs to find a person who has recently been very successful or lucky, coming into prominence in their chosen field, perhaps? And the other needs to go in to the dream and find Helena and the others. I’m sending you an artefact with Claudia – she’s on a flight as we speak. It’s a small statue of a cat, the inspiration for a novel by Frederik Pohl, who wrote a novel about parallel universes. It tethers a person to this reality. So one of you can go into the dream, can see what Helena and the others see, but it won’t be able to pull them in. Whoever goes in will need to get Helena and the others to touch the statue willingly, knowing that they are rejecting the reality of the dream. Otherwise, the only way to release them is to find the flute and neutralise it.”

 

Myka nodded, chewing at her lip thoughtfully.

 

“When does Claudia arrive?” she asked.

 

“Early afternoon,” he said. Then his face softened. “We’ll find her, Myka. We’ll bring her home.”

 

She nodded distractedly. Her heart was like lead in her chest. She was terrified that they were too late, that Helena would be gone already, that she would turn up in the Loch like the others. She closed the Farnsworth and went to shower, leaving Pete snoring in their shared bed. She didn’t notice his eyes open, following her and narrowing as she stood staring at Helena’s trench coat for a long moment before picking up her clothes and going into the bathroom.

 

~

 

Helena spent the day at the park with Christina, and all was well until she heard a French man speaking behind her. He was simply out for a day in the park like she was, but something about his voice jarred her. She had memories of blood and death and Christina’s white face and staring eyes. Two men in a darkened room, their blood creating a network of rivers on the floor while she gloried in their pain, laughing in her derangement, arms red and slick to the elbows.

 

She almost shrieked in horror, and Sophie took her hand, begging her to say what was wrong, but Helena couldn’t speak. She couldn’t remember any of it clearly, and what on earth was she doing anyway when Christina was plainly fine, alive and well before her very eyes? She shook it off, but she remained unsettled for the rest of the day, and, when she went to bed, slipped into an uneasy dream immediately.

 

_“This life, it’s not who you are, Helena.”_

_It wasn’t the words that hurt, it was her eyes. The naked want and pain in those eyes was blinding Helena, and she lashed out, told Myka to mind her own business. She **was** hiding, she knew that. Hiding from her feelings for Myka, hiding from her own malevolence, from her propensity to hurt those she loved. She couldn’t remember clearly everything that she had said that day, nor what Myka had said in reply, but she remembered clearly the look in Myka’s eyes. It tore at her heart even now, as she slept in her bed in London, hiding in another life where she no longer belonged. _

_After Boone, she had heard from Myka only once. A text message._

 

“To die and part is a less evil; but to part and live, there, there is the torment.”

_There was only one other word at the end of the quote._

_Goodbye._

_Helena didn’t reply to the message. She didn’t know how to begin to reply. They were too raw, those words. It was much later, after her return, that she learned that Myka had sent it to her the day she went for surgery for ovarian cancer. Abigail had been filling her in on Claudia’s goozooka and the Paracelsus matter when she mentioned, in passing, Myka’s brush with cancer. Helena had paled, stammering, before running outside and throwing up in the grass. She knelt on all fours, retching for some time afterwards in the beautiful garden of the B &B. Abigail came to sit next to her, holding back her hair and giving her a napkin to wipe her mouth._

_“I’m so sorry, Helena, I thought you knew. Myka mentioned that she had spoken to you around that time, and that you hadn’t replied.”_

_Helena was ashamed, but she couldn’t honestly have been expected to know that Myka was ill, could she? “You could have asked, couldn’t you?” said a dry voice in her mind. “You didn’t_ want _to know.”_

_It was true. She knew that something had to be wrong, because of the content of the quote itself. And the fact that Myka had ended it with “Goodbye” was rather clear. There had to be something wrong. But Helena had buried her head in the sand once again. That text message was the beginning of the end for her pantomime with Nate and Adelaide, however. Her heart was no longer in it, and she had to move on. The job at the Office of the Medical Examiner in New York had come at just the right time. She lost herself in her relationship with Giselle, another lab technician with whom she’d shared a pleasant few months. But the truth was, Giselle wasn’t Myka, and Helena’s heart wasn’t in it. She had tried, tentatively, to reach out to Myka from New York – just to be friends – and had sent a chatty text message, mentioning Giselle in passing. It was Myka’s turn, this time, to ignore her. They hadn’t spoken again until she’d returned, and ever since their interactions had been painfully empty. Helena mourned for Myka, for all their almosts and nearlys._

_“Is that why you’re hiding in this fantasy?” Myka’s voice whispered in her ear. “Because you’re too much of a coward to tell me you’re sorry?”_

_“You can’t have her, HG. She chose me. She is in my bed every night, and we both know that you’ve heard how happy she is there. Stay here in your fantasy, or come back to the Warehouse. It makes no difference to me. She’s mine, now.” Pete’s voice was smug, and as she turned, she saw him with Myka, saw them kiss, saw them begin to undress each other, and she tried to squeeze her eyes shut. The image burned her eyes, and her eyelids refused her commands to close. She began to cry._

She awoke to Sophie’s concerned face hovering over her.

 

“Miss Wells, whatever is the matter? You were crying out in your sleep! Have you had a nightmare?” Her Scottish brogue was thick and comforting, and Helena wondered vaguely why her face was wet. Why, she must have had a nightmare! How strange. She wiped her cheeks briskly.

 

Her mind moved on from her dreams and she turned happily to the simple matters of dressing and greeting her daughter. All was well. Her mouth turned up in a smile.

 

~

 

Myka went to pick Claudia up at the airport in Glasgow. Claudia said little, clutching a static bag in her hand that must contain the cat statue, and staring out the window. She had clearly been crying on the flight over, but if she didn’t want to talk, Myka wasn’t going to make her. Pete had gone out shortly after her conversation with Artie. He was speaking to the local police and townspeople to see if they could identify anyone who had come to prominence or fame in the area suddenly and recently. Myka had no doubt that Pete could get the information they needed. He was so much better than she was at reading people. Perhaps if she’d been better at that sort of thing, they never would have come to this. She would have seen Helena’s pain, everything that she was hiding, and Helena would never have tried what she did at Yellowstone. They might have had some chance, back then, at a meaningful relationship. Something had been building between them back then, a slow, budding trust and love that, at the time, had meant the world to Myka. A kindred spirit, in this insane world that they inhabited, a world filled with artefacts and world-ending evil that seemed to threaten every five minutes. Having Helena around had calmed and thrilled her in almost equal measure.

 

She sighed unconsciously, and Claudia side-eyed her.

 

“What?” she said, defensively.

 

“You. What’s with the sighing?”

 

“I’m just worried, Claudia.”

 

Claudia sighed, then.

 

“I know. I am, too. I’ve been such an asshole to her, Mykes. I told her she’d broken her bonds with us, I made it clear that I didn’t want anything to do with her. That’s probably why she was susceptible to this artefact – it only targets lonely people. Probably makes it easier for them to disappear, because people don’t notice.”

 

Claudia’s face was a portrait of guilt and misery. What she was saying was true, but it hurt. Myka knew that she was just as guilty as Claudia, if not more so, of pushing Helena away since her return to the Warehouse. She had good reason, sure. But that wouldn’t console her if Helena died, now, alone, after everything they’d been through together. She’d never forgive herself. The way Helena looked these days – thin, drawn – it was clear that she wasn’t herself. Even in Boone, she had moved with purpose, she was confident. Now she was more like the Helena who had come to Bering and Sons to persuade Myka to return to the Warehouse. Lost, sombre – broken. Myka’s thoughts the other night about Helena finding a willing partner at one of the pubs in the area were completely uncharitable. The woman had lived like a nun since her arrival at the Warehouse, spending all of her time working at the Warehouse, talking and meditating with Steve, playing chess with Artie, or talking comic books or movies with Pete. If nothing else, that last should have given Myka a clue that everything wasn’t okay with Helena. If she was reduced to conversation about superheroes, she must have been incredibly lonely. Myka could hear her sometimes, tinkering away at some invention or another in the early hours of the morning. And then there were her new books. Myka had quietly read all of them, and they were darker than anything HG Wells had ever penned – they were filled with a pervasive sense of sadness, of loss. She remembered the day Helena had almost caught her reading the most recent Emily Lake novel. She had childishly made a great show of disgust, dropping it, and the look of shock and pain on Helena’s face had made her feel a little better, just for a second, about everything. Until the guilt hit her. Whatever Helena had done, or hadn’t done in the past, she didn’t deserve to die alone, not like this.

 

Myka pulled over to the grass verge on the side of the road. Her vision was blurred with tears. Claudia took her hand and they sat there silently. It was twenty minutes before Myka could drive again.

 

When they arrived in Lockerbie, they could see that there was a small crowd around the police station. Myka’s heart began to thud in her chest. It could only be more disappearances – or more reappearances. She parked the rental car outside the station and pushed through the crowd. There was a body bag on a gurney, and Pete was next to it. The body was small – small enough to be Helena’s. Myka couldn’t breathe.  

 

“Is it her? Is it her, Pete?”

 

He was surprised to see her, and didn’t answer right away. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

 

“No. No, it’s not her. It’s the first kid of the two that went missing after you guys got here. There are still others who haven’t turned up yet, so there’s no set time for how long this thing takes to kill people. But if we’re going to do anything, it’s gonna have to be tonight, Myka. She might not have any more time.”

 

Myka nodded mutely. Pete watched her carefully, a measuring look in his eye that she couldn’t interpret. She turned away and got back in the car.

 

“It’s not her,” she said shortly to a stricken Claudia, whose face relaxed immediately.

 

“Oh thank God,” Claudia said, taking in a shuddering breath of relief.

 

Myka drove the short distance to the small parking lot by the B&B. She lifted Claudia’s bag and carried it inside, taking Claudia to the room adjoining hers and Helena’s – now hers and Pete’s. She paused again to stare at Helena’s coat. That coat featured in one of her best memories of Helena – the day at Tamalpais with the damn grappler. The day when, if she was honest, she’d started to fall in love with Helena. She stood there for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths, staring at the trench coat and remembering how strong Helena’s arm felt around her, how safe she had felt that day when Helena first saved her life.

 

“So,” Claudia said, bustling into the room, “here’s the statue. Artie says that whoever goes in needs to keep it touching their skin at all times, otherwise they’ll be drawn in.”

 

“I’ll go,” Pete said from behind her where he’d just walked into the room.

 

“No.”

 

They both turned to look at Myka.

 

“I’m going. It has to be me. No-one else can talk her down, you know that.”

 

Pete looked at her, his face uncharacteristically serious and his eyes narrowed.

 

“Are you sure about that, Myka? You’ve barely spoken to her for eight months. I’ve had more conversations with her than you have – than either of you have,” he said, suddenly stern.

 

Myka flushed.

 

“I know. I’ve been…I didn’t want anything to do with her. But that doesn’t mean I want her to _die_ , Pete. I think if she’s in a fantasy land where she’s happy, she’ll need someone she’s close to. Do you really think you can be that person?”

 

He looked at her thoughtfully, and she had the troubling feeling, once again, that he understood more than he was letting on.

 

“Maybe not. But you have to be sure, Myka. You can’t go in there, to wherever she is, and be all cold and distant like you have been. She’ll stay and she’ll die if you do.”

 

His tone was harsher than any he’d ever directed at her before. She looked at Claudia, who looked back at her with wide eyes.

 

“You guys – since Boone, I know you didn’t agree with her choice to stay with Nate and the kid. I didn’t either, but it was her choice. And then when she came back you treated her like she was just someone you knew from high school or something. She sacrificed herself to save us, Myka. She died saving the Warehouse, and it’s only because of that whole astrolabe deal that she’s even here. I don’t know exactly what the problem is, but you’ve both been treating her like shit.”

 

Claudia flinched, and Myka closed her eyes.

 

“She’s vulnerable to this artefact because she’s lonely, Mykes. And you guys haven’t helped. So if you’re going after her, you have to go whole heartedly. If you can’t do that, then I have to be the one that goes, because I actually give a damn if she makes it out.”

 

Myka bowed her head. She hadn’t expected this, not from Pete. He was so understanding and sweet that she sometimes forgot how much he saw and how intuitive he was.

 

“I…I can do that, Pete. I think it should be me.”

 

He looked at her carefully and then nodded, apparently satisfied.

 

“Okay.”

 

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Claudia and Myka both relaxed, sitting on the room’s two small chairs.

 

“I got a line on a guy who might be using our artefact. He’s a young guy, left school recently without any grades or anything, but he suddenly got himself a job as a car salesman and now he’s been promoted, making the big bucks. I have a vibe – I think it’s him. So I’m going to go check out the car lot where he works, and his place. Claudia, will you go with Mykes to the castle and keep an eye on her?”

 

Claudia nodded, her face still flushed with shame. Pete went to use the bathroom and then came back, picking up his tesla and his service weapon and holstering them. He put his jacket on and leaned down to kiss Myka – on the cheek, which he _never_ did - and told them to call him on his Farnsworth if they found anything. He left silence in his wake.

 

“Wow. He was pretty mad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that way before,” Claudia said in a hushed tone.

 

“Yeah, he was pretty pissed. I…I guess he’s usually so cheerful, I forget how much he sees, you know?” Myka chewed on her lip anxiously. The way he’d looked at her – he was stern, but he also looked – hurt? She didn’t understand.

 

Claudia nodded.

 

“So, I guess we go to the ruins and see if we can get you trapped with the Pied Piper?”

 

“Yeah,” Myka said softly.

 

Claudia went into her room to get ready and Myka went downstairs to the small sitting room that also housed a small library. She was looking at the spines of the books when she heard someone come in behind her.

 

“Hello, Agent Bering,” Mrs Carruthers said. “How are things proceeding with your investigation?”

 

Myka turned and gave her a wan smile.

 

“Not great, Mrs Carruthers,” she said.

 

“Has your friend no turned up yet?” the little woman asked, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs and lifting her knitting from the basket beside her.

 

“No,” Myka said, flinching slightly when the woman called Helena her friend.

 

“I’m sorry, lass. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Mrs Carruthers said, beginning to knit, her needles clicking against one another soothingly.

 

Myka sat for a moment, putting her head in her hands.

 

“Are you all right, Agent Bering?”

 

Myka looked up and attempted a smile that slid off her face straightaway.

 

“Yeah. I’m just a little worried. They found someone else in the Loch today. It was…I thought it was her, for a minute.”

 

She didn’t know why she had told the B&B owner that little detail. There was just something about her. She had a warm, open face that was inviting Myka to talk.

 

“But it wasnae her. It was the Barratt boy, I heard.”

 

Myka nodded, chewing on a fingernail distractedly.

 

“I just wish I’d been a little nicer to her. She…we’ve known each other a long time, and I…haven’t been the best friend, lately.”

 

Mrs Carruthers looked at with a gentle smile. Something about her suddenly reminded Myka of Leena.

 

“There’s always time to make that up to her, isn’t there?”

 

“I hope so,” Myka said, trying to fight back tears.

 

Mrs Carruthers reached over and put her hand on Myka’s arm.

 

“I’m sorry, lass. You and her – I didn’t know that was the way of it. I thought you and Agent Lattimer were together, but obviously I was mistaken.”

 

Myka stared at her.

 

“What? Me and Helena? No, I’m with Pete – Agent Lattimer. We’re getting married.”

 

Mrs Carruthers looked shocked for a moment, then she smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“That’s wonderful, dear. I’m sure you’ll be very happy. I’m sorry if I misunderstood.” The sudden sharpness in the older woman’s eyes said, however, that she was well aware that she had _not_ misunderstood, and the tightening of her mouth said she disapproved. She stood up suddenly, smiling distantly.

 

“Well, dear, I better be off – work to do, you know. Good luck.” And with that, she departed, leaving a very unsettled Myka Bering in her wake.

 

Once Claudia was ready, she and Myka walked in silence to the ruins. This was the risky part – going to the castle in the dark, trying to get caught up in the artefact’s effects. Artie had talked to Myka about it earlier that day.

 

“You have to concentrate on loneliness, on isolation. On the yearning to be with someone, or more than one someone, to connect. That is what draws this artefact’s attention.”

 

She didn’t have to think hard – her memories of Boone were enough. She started hearing the music almost immediately, and held on to the cat statue that was in her coat pocket, ensuring that her skin never lost contact with it.

 

“Can you hear it, Claudia?” she asked.

 

Claudia just shrugged at her.

 

“You’re speaking a different language, Myka. I can’t understand you.” But Myka couldn’t understand her, either, so she just took Claudia’s hand for a second, squeezing it reassuringly, and indicated in primitive sign language that she was going to follow the sound that only she could hear. After a moment, she could see only darkness, and a few seconds after that, she was in the middle of a wedding. One of the disappeared, presumably, enjoying their fantasy. She walked on, her hand still in her pocket, tethering her to reality. She found similar scenes as she walked through this strange place – a couple in the delivery room holding their newborn, a family at the beach on holiday, and embarrassingly, another couple who were apparently making love for the first time. To her relief, the next scene she came upon was of a small girl, dark haired and dark eyed, playing in a park with a kite. Sitting demurely nearby on a blanket was the woman she was looking for – Helena. She was dressed in an elaborate dress with a corset and her hair was in the sort of complicated up-do that Myka had only ever seen in costume dramas on television. She was breath-taking – her smile lit up her face as she watched Christina play. Myka’s heart clenched at the sight. It had been so long since she’d seen a genuine smile on Helena’s face. As Myka smiled instinctively at the sight, Helena’s eyes met hers. Her face changed from content and happy to puzzled and she clutched at her chest, shock written all over her features. And then she fainted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka attempts to find and save Helena, and some harsh truths are revealed.

* * *

 

Helena was chatting with Sophie about inconsequential matters when she suddenly saw a familiar face. She couldn’t place the woman, but she was oddly dressed – in trousers, of all things, in a public place! Helena was momentarily thrilled at her boldness, but as she stared at the woman, something about her eyes drew Helena in, and some of her nightmares came back to her. This woman wrapped intimately around a smiling man – this woman, kissing _her_. Helena’s heart stuttered, and she clutched at her chest as if to set her heart back to beating by main force. The woman’s eyes were searching hers, and Helena’s mind was suddenly filled with visions of bloody violence, along with the sight of Christina’s dead eyes, staring sightlessly at her from a morgue slab. Her world narrowed down to a pinpoint.

 

She woke shortly after with Sophie fussing over her with smelling salts, and Christina sitting beside her, clutching at her hand. She sat up gingerly, reassuring them both that she was fine, really. And then she saw the stranger again, standing behind Sophie and watching her carefully.

 

“Who are you?” she asked, rather rudely. She was frightened of this woman, of what she represented.

 

“Myka,” was all the woman said, softly. And Helena remembered. She remembered it all, down to the last detail. She remembered kissing Myka in the Regent Sanctum and the B&B, and she remembered the driveway in Boone where she had broken Myka’s heart. She remembered the loneliness that filled her every day as she watched Myka and Pete together. She remembered living in the future, the new world, without anything or anyone to tether her. She remembered Myka and Pete’s plans to have a family. And she looked at Christina and Sophie and the world around her, thought of Charles and her father back at home. She knew that it was a lie, all of it. But she didn’t want the reality, not any more.

 

“What do you want?” she asked, not gently. She ignored Christina’s questions, Sophie’s demands to know what was going on.

 

“I’m here to take you home, Helena.”

 

“Why?” she asked, her face set. “There’s nothing left for me there, not any more. You and I both saw to that, did we not?”

 

Myka winced.

 

“I deserve that, I guess.”

 

Helena raised an eyebrow, not giving an inch.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena,” Myka said with a deep sigh. “I have…I treated you badly. We both know why; and I don’t want to talk about that. But you don’t belong here. This isn’t real.”

 

“It isn’t _who I am_ , you mean?” she snapped nastily.

 

Myka flushed, both in shame and anger, it appeared.

 

“Well, I wasn’t wrong about that, was I?” she asked, pointedly.

 

Helena’s jaw was tight.

 

“Why are you here, Myka? I do not need to be rescued.”

 

“You do, Helena. You just don’t know it. This place isn’t real, and it’s killing you. If you don’t come back with me, you’ll die.”

 

“So?” Helena said, shrugging. “At least I shall die happy, rather than living an empty life as a ghost with my _former_ friends around me. I have lived a long life, Myka. There is no one to miss me. I have no need of your help. You can go back to your life in good conscience. I wish you every happiness.”

 

She tried to insert some genuine sentiment into that last statement, but it was difficult. She did of course wish happiness for Myka, but she balked at the idea of Myka and a brood of Bering-Lattimers. She did not dislike Pete – quite the opposite, in fact – but she did not consider him a worthy match for Myka. Myka was a singular woman, and she deserved a singular partner. Nevertheless, it was her choice to marry Pete and have his children. If such was her desire – who was Helena to stand in the way? Just an almost, a could-have-been. She grimaced slightly, and then resumed her haughty expression.

 

“I thank you for your concern, Myka. I wish that I could return with you. But I find...” she passed her hand over her eyes wearily, “that I do not have the energy any longer. I have tried to find my place in the new world and it has eluded me. I belong nowhere. So leave me to this artificial happiness and go home, I beg you. Find your own happiness and live a long and happy life.”

 

She managed a genuine smile, tinged with regret, of course, but genuine still. Myka stared at her, incredulous.

 

“You…you’re doing it again. You’re lying to yourself, to me. You don’t want this.” She gesticulated at the park around them, at Christina and Sophie. “It isn’t real, and it isn’t you.”

 

Helena bristled.

 

“I am well aware, Myka, that it is not real. Christina is dead, and I live in a future that I could never even have dreamed of in any of the books that Charles and I created together.” She ignored the protests from the figures next to her, holding her hand up for silence. “Regardless, I am happier here in this deceit than I have been for some time. I have no-one, Myka. Let me go.”

 

Myka sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

 

“You know, Pete wanted to come. He said that I couldn’t come here, couldn’t be how I have been with you since you got back, because you would stay and you would die.”

 

She came to sit on the edge of the blanket, facing Helena, tucking her long legs under her. She kept one hand in her coat pocket.

 

“I didn’t believe him, not really. I didn’t think you would choose fantasy over reality – not again, anyway. I thought you were past that.”

 

For the first time since Boone, Myka’s eyes met hers openly. Always before she had looked away after meeting Helena’s eyes for long enough to make it clear that she was not intimidated, just uninterested. But now she was really looking at Helena, and Helena wasn’t prepared for the surge of emotion that those eyes brought forth within her. Her chin came up stubbornly as she tried to still her shaking hands, her pounding heart.

 

“I am not choosing fantasy over reality. This is real, to me. If what you say is true, I will die if I stay here. But I will have spent my last days with my daughter. This is the only place I have ever been truly happy, Myka. Why would I give that up to return to my current life? Yes, I work for the Warehouse and I enjoy it. But there is no-one to miss me, Myka. I have no-one. It is an empty existence and now that I am here, now that I remember this – why would I go back?”

 

Myka met her angry gaze evenly.

 

“I understand, Helena. But staying here in this fantasy is the coward’s way out. And you are not a coward.”

 

Helena flushed slightly. Because, if nothing else, by staying in Boone and turning her back on Myka, she had been exactly that – a coward. This fantasy of Christina and Charles and her life in London was just that – a fantasy. Christina was long dead, a memory frozen in black and white forever inside a locket. Whoever Helena had been when Christina was alive, she was no longer. Nevertheless, she was not content with her life at the Warehouse. She had tried so hard to lose herself - in the work, the retrievals, her inventions, her writing - but she was simply not happy. Perhaps it was the fact that she had lost Myka, or the fact that she had found no-one to make her happy. Perhaps it was something inherent in her – a quality that made her unlovable. But whatever it was, every day was an effort and this…this fantasy was better than reality.

 

She sighed and stood up suddenly, murmuring to Christina and Sophie to remain where they were, and strode off into the park. As she expected, Myka followed her.

 

“Where are you going, Helena?”

 

Helena pointed at a nearby bench under a tree. There was no one sitting there, and it was a much better place for their conversation than in front of Helena’s daughter. They walked in silence for a moment, Helena lost in thought and Myka following behind, giving her space. She reached the bench and sat, and Myka sat herself gingerly on the bench – not too close, Helena observed with some amusement, and a touch of bitterness.

 

“Do you remember, Myka, when we were talking after your colleague Mr Dickinson’s funeral?”

 

Myka nodded.

 

“You said to me that you were going to need more than ‘she doesn’t like the world’ to persuade you of my intentions.”

 

Myka nodded again, her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to puzzle out what Helena’s meaning was.

 

“In this case, _I’m_ going to need more than ‘you’re going to die’ as persuasion, Myka. Because I have lived for almost 149 years at this point; I rather fail to see how leaving here, where I am content, to live yet more empty years alone amounts to a persuasive argument.”

 

Helena turned her gaze on Myka, meeting her eyes with her heart – her broken heart – in her eyes. The last time she had looked at Myka entirely unguarded was in Myka’s bedroom at the B&B almost two years ago now; before Boone and Giselle and before Myka and Pete. Myka flinched.

 

“What’s the matter, darling?” Helena asked, slightly mockingly.

 

“I…I didn’t realise. How you felt,” Myka said hesitantly.

 

“And now you do realise. So,” Helena said brightly, “do dazzle me with your brilliant arguments about why I should return with you to my oh-so-wonderful existence in a time where I do not belong, with people who do not want me there.” She made an imperious gesture at Myka, urging her on. Myka flushed again. She looked almost as if she might cry.

 

“Go home, Myka,” Helena said, in a low, urgent voice. “If you ever cared for me - go home and live your life, my love. If anyone deserves to be happy, it is you. I am weary and I want to rest. There is nothing for me in this world anymore.”

 

She turned her face away and watched her daughter for a moment. Christina had returned to flying her kite with Sophie. Charles had joined them – perhaps the artefact powering this reality was bolstering its position by reminding her of her happiness here, in this time. If so, it needn’t have bothered. She was quite content to remain here. Fantasy or not, she was happy. She could hear her daughter laughing – the daughter who she’d bent time itself to save. She was beyond the reach of those she’d hurt here – except Myka, of course – but once she was gone, Helena could lose herself in her happiness until the artefact had used her up and spat her out. She stood, murmuring,” Goodbye, Myka,” and walked off without a backward glance.

 

~

 

Myka sat on the bench, watching Helena return to her daughter. She was shaking, tears running down her face. She had failed. Helena preferred this fantasy to her real life, and was happy to die. Myka closed her eyes, concentrating on the Loch as she had last seen it, squeezing her hand tightly around the cat statue in her pocket. When she opened her eyes she was sitting on the wall where she’d found Helena’s trench coat.

 

“Myka?”

 

It was Claudia, sitting nearby with a torch and her Tesla.

 

“Where’s Helena?”

 

Myka shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

 

“I thought she would come back with me, Claud. I really did.”

 

Claudia stared at her in shock.

 

“Come on, let’s go back to town.”

 

Claudia took her arm and led her back to the B&B, where Pete was waiting. He took in her tears and white face, and quietly sat her on their bed, wrapping her in the spare blanket. Then he followed Claudia into her room, where they had a muttered conversation that Myka couldn’t hear. She was empty. Helena was dying – was choosing to die, again – and Myka was helpless to stop it. She cried silently with the soft sound of Pete and Claudia’s voices in the next room, and she fell into a troubled sleep once she’d exhausted herself.

 

She woke not long after she had fallen asleep, dreaming of Helena, her sightless eyes open, floating amongst the weeds at the bottom of the Loch.

 

“Shit!” she shouted, fighting to get away from the arms holding her. “Let me go!”

 

“Hey, babe, it’s just me. Calm down.”

 

She relaxed as she recognised Pete’s voice. He waited a moment and then let her go. She opened her eyes to see his and Claudia’s faces staring back at her in concern. She shrugged off the blanket that was still wrapped around her and wiped her cheeks, which were still wet from the nightmare.

 

“You okay, Mykes?” Claudia asked.

 

She nodded mutely, chewing on her lip.

 

“Hey, Claud. Can I talk to Myka alone for a minute?” Pete asked, his eyes on Myka’s.

 

“Sure,” she said. “Call me if you need me, guys.” She disappeared into the adjoining room. Myka sat up, backing up to lean herself against the headboard. She tucked her knees up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them for comfort.

 

Pete didn’t say anything for a long moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that thoughtful look on his face that she’d been seeing a lot since he got here.

 

“What?” she asked, a little rudely.

 

He narrowed his eyes slightly and raised an eyebrow questioningly after a moment.

 

“So. You came back without her.”

 

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

 

“Yes. I tried, Pete. But she didn’t want to come back. She said she’d rather die in there, happy, than out here.”

 

His nostrils flared.

 

“And you were okay with that? Letting her die, letting her waste away under the influence of this artefact? You know what it does to people, Myka.”

 

“Well, what else could I do, Pete? She had to come willingly. I tried. And what the hell happened to your lead, anyway? I don’t see you fixing this either!”

 

He sighed heavily.

 

“The kid’s in the wind, Myka. He must have realised I was after him. Or the artefact makes him lucky, I guess. I’m going back out to search for him. Claudia texted me and told me you were coming back, that’s why I’m here.”

 

She looked at him, trying to meet his gaze, but she had to look away after a moment.

 

“You know, Myka, I thought that whatever the thing was between you and HG – I thought you were over it. I thought you were over Boone and that you had really moved on, with me. But I guess I was ignoring what I didn’t want to see. Since she got back, you’ve been a real bitch to her. I figured you were just mad that she didn’t get in touch when you had cancer, which I guess would have been a good reason not to want a friendship with her. And then Abigail told me that you never told her about the cancer. So I realised it couldn’t be that.” He turned away slightly, his jaw tightening, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her any more.

 

“It took a while – it took until yesterday – for me to realise. You’re still in love with her, and that’s why you don’t want to talk to her, why you’re treating her like she doesn’t matter to you. Because she hurt you when she decided to stay with Nate, and after, with that gazelle girl.”

 

“Giselle,” she corrected, automatically.

 

“Whatever,” he said, shooting her a glare. “So I guess you’re not denying that you’re in love with her?”

 

He looked at her with his heart in his eyes and she tried to protest that he was wrong, but she couldn’t. She was horrified when his eyes filled with tears. He brushed them away angrily.

 

“Pete, I…”

 

He held up a hand to stop her. She’d rarely seen Pete this upset. It broke her heart that she was the reason for it.

 

“Please, Myka. Don’t. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to _yourself_. Just tell me, do you – did you ever love me?”

 

She stared at him, mute, unable to say anything in her own defence. He looked at her, his face stricken, before laughing, once. A sob of a laugh. He put his head in his hands.

 

“Okay, Mykes. Okay. Whatever I thought we had, I guess I was fooling myself. I… you don’t need to worry about us anymore, because we’re finished.” He said it softly, almost as if he was trying to soften the blow for her. “I deserve… I deserve someone who loves me the way you love her – the way she loves you. I guess we can talk about all this later, if we have to. But for now - HG is under the influence of an artefact, and if I can’t find this kid, she’s going to die. So you need to get back there and be honest with her. Clearly she loves you. Don’t let her die because you can’t get over the fact that she stayed with that dude and his daughter. Go in there and get her back. Bring her home.”

 

He got up and walked out of the room, calling out to Claudia that he was going to look for the kid. Myka sat in stunned silence as she watched him leave.

 

Claudia came into the room quietly, her eyes searching Myka’s face.

 

“I guess you heard that?” Myka asked quietly. Claudia nodded.

 

“Come on, then. I guess I’m going back.”

 

They trudged back to the castle in the dark, linking their arms for comfort.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka returns to the castle to try to persuade Helena to return with her

* * *

The memory of Myka’s presence blessedly began to fade after a few minutes in Christina’s company – the work of the artefact, no doubt - and Helena let herself relax into the fantasy of the family life that had been wrested from her so cruelly over a century ago. Her mind cleared, the unsettling truth melting away, and she spent the remainder of the day with Christina, Charles, Sophie and later even her father, who was unusually jovial over dinner. She retired to her room after a pleasant evening, Christina having fallen asleep in her arms in front of the fire hours before. The feel of her daughter’s small warm body on her lap had warmed her heart. She went to bed with a light heart, slipping peacefully into slumber.

 

_“Hi, Helena,” Myka said, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in New York?”_

_Helena smiled, her heart lighter for the mere sight of Myka._

_“Hello, darling,” she began, taking a step towards Myka. At that moment, Pete bounded down the stairs of the B &B, immediately enveloping her in a hug. _

_“HG! Are you back, like…really back?”_

_“I am,” she said simply, smiling at his boyish exuberance._

_“That’s awesome, dude! How come you didn’t tell me, Mykes?”_

_Myka smiled at him fondly._

_“I didn’t know, actually,” she said softly. She looked at Helena for a moment, her eyes unreadable, and then looked away._

_Pete leaned over and kissed Myka on the mouth, and Helena’s mouth fell open for a moment in shock. Myka caught her expression, but Helena quickly smoothed her features before Pete could see._

_“Well, you guys will have plenty of time to catch up now!” he said, smiling, and he ran off, presumably to find Claudia and Steve to tell them the good news._

_Helena stood in the hallway of the B &B, her expression carefully neutral. Myka looked at her warily, folding her arms tightly about herself. _

_“I didn’t realise you and Pete were an item,” Helena said softly._

_“Yeah,” Myka said, biting her lip slightly but then looking up, her eyes daring Helena to comment. “We’re engaged, actually.”_

_Helena looked at her carefully for a moment, seeing nothing, in that cool gaze, of the woman who had once stuttered and flushed in her presence. She stepped closer, taking Myka’s hand. There was no change in Myka’s expression. Helena squeezed her hand for a moment._

_“I’m so pleased for you, Myka. Congratulations.”_

_She smiled softly and walked away, picking up her bags and carrying them upstairs to her room silently. She hadn’t realised, until that very moment, how much she had been holding on to hope. Hope that Myka would still care for her, hope that Myka might… Well, it didn’t matter now. She made her way silently to her old room, which had been returned from the dead agent’s vault in preparation for her arrival. As she sat on the edge of the bed wearily, she rather thought that it might be better to return it, and her, to the vault to moulder away to nothing. For there was nothing left for her here. She suddenly remembered Myka’s face, the tears in her eyes as she smiled that awful, pained smile and urged Helena to make Boone her home. Helena knew, in that moment, that this – this was how it felt, to look like that._

“Helena,” came a soft voice from next to her, waking her from yet another nightmare. It was unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time, this voice. Where was Sophie? How had this woman come to be in her bedroom? She clutched the blankets to her chest as a match flared to life in the darkness, and the faceless visitor lit the candle by the bed.

 

Myka was sitting on the bed next to her. As it had before, Helena’s memory returned in a rush, including the memory of her dream of returning to the B&B. Her heart thudded in her chest unpleasantly and she thought, for a moment, that she might be sick.

 

“What are you doing here, Myka? I clearly recall asking you to leave me alone,” she said wearily. She no longer had the energy even to insert any bite into her tone; she was simply sad.

 

Myka was beautiful, the stuttering light of the candle making her eyes appear almost inhumanly bright. Helena allowed herself to enjoy the sight for a moment before thinking of Pete and the Bering-Lattimer babies and turning her face away, closing her eyes.

 

“Pete sent me back. You have to come home, Helena. It’s my fault that you’re here. I…I was trying to move on, after Boone. I was trying to stay away from you. I know that I’ve hurt you.”

 

Helena laughed bitterly at that.

 

“You didn’t cause this, Myka. I did. I knew what I was doing when I stayed with Nate, and I did it anyway. You don’t need to feel guilty. I thought being at the Warehouse would be enough, Myka, but it’s not. This new world – it’s too much. It’s too loud, and too bright, and I don’t belong. I died over a century ago, when Christina did. It’s just taken me this long to realise it.”

 

“No, Helena. You’re not dead. You’re real, you’re here, and you have a family back at the Warehouse. We all care about you. _I_ care about you. I know that I’ve been distant, Helena. But surely you can understand why? After everything? We kissed, Helena, and it meant…it meant _everything_ to me.”

 

To Helena’s dismay, Myka was crying. She sobbed, once, a sound that pulled at Helena’s ribs and ripped at her heart. She might not belong, not anymore, but she still loved Myka more than anything. She could not bear to see her in distress. She reached out and touched Myka’s hand.

 

“Myka,” she murmured, regret filling her tone. “Myka…”

 

Myka drew in a sharp breath, her eyes closed.

 

“It meant everything, Helena. And when I heard your voice that day, when you called, I thought – I thought, this is it, she’s alive, she’s out there, she’s coming home. And I went to Wisconsin and you were a stranger. You…the way you looked at me, Helena. I…”

 

She paused for a moment, still not looking up, tears falling from her eyes onto the blankets below.

 

“You looked at me like I was just a bother, like I was nothing to you. And then I met Adelaide, and…”

 

She shook her head, unable to say the name, it seemed.

 

“I thought it was a bad dream. But you didn’t come home, and I felt myself break, that day. I never felt anything like that before. Like I was being ripped to pieces from the inside out.”

 

She opened her eyes suddenly and there was rage in them, for a moment.

 

“You were with them for six months, Helena. Six months, and I didn’t know where you were. You might not have wanted me, Helena, but there were less cruel ways to tell me. A note, anything. After that day, I decided I was done waiting for you. And then I found out about the cancer.”

 

It was Helena’s turn to cry, then. Silent, helpless tears. Myka just stared at her for a moment.

 

“I…after I woke up from the surgery, after they told me it was okay, I decided to move on. I was going to try and have a life – more than just a professional life. I wanted to be happy, Helena. Then I got your message, telling me about Giselle. I could understand it, Helena, or at least a little, when you were with… him, and Adelaide. Because I knew it was really about Christina. But then Giselle – another woman. So why not me, Helena? And then Steve told me that Pete was in love with me, and I…I went with it. It was comfortable and it was safe. Pete cares about me. I never expected you to come back. When you did, I didn’t know how to act. I stayed away from you because I didn’t want to wreck it, what Pete and I have. Had, I guess. But I never meant to drive you away like this. I’m sorry, Helena. Please, just come home. Come back.”

 

Helena stared at her, her face wet with tears. She shook her head.

 

“It’s time for me to rest, Myka. I deserve that, don’t I?” she said, pleading. “I did some terrible things, to you, to everyone. But I tried to make up for it. I tried. But everything I try, it just… I am empty, Myka. I am alone. After one and a half centuries, I am still adrift and alone. Please just let me go. I am sorry, Myka, for everything I did to you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was hiding there with Nate and Adelaide, trying to keep you safe from me. I thought you would be better without me. I had done you so much damage already.” Her voice was gentle, pleading.

 

“Leave me, Myka. Please.”

 

She closed her eyes and turned over onto her side with her back to Myka. For a moment, there was silence. And then Myka spoke, her tone determined.

 

“Okay, if you want to stay, then I can’t stop you. But I’m staying too.”

 

Something heavy fell to the floorboards with a dull clank. Helena just had time to turn slightly, beginning to protest, before the scene around her changed and she was standing in Myka’s room in the B&B. She remembered, for some reason, feeling concern, worry, pain – but now she felt only joy. Because Myka was looking at her with love written all over her features. They had managed to outwit Walter Sykes and Helena was free of the Janus coin. They could, finally, touch one another. Helena dropped her leather jacket to the floor and stepped forward into Myka’s arms. Their kiss was tentative at first, as if they were frightened to scare one another off, but it deepened and soon Myka had turned them, pressing Helena against the door with her body, tilting Helena’s head back, her hands burying themselves in Helena’s hair.

 

“I thought I’d lost you,” Myka said, her breath hot in Helena’s ear.

 

“I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

 

They kissed again, and there were no Regents this time. _“This time?” Helena’s mind asked vaguely._

She stopped thinking in any coherent manner, however, because Myka’s mouth was on her neck, and her hands were moving to cup Helena’s bottom and pull her closer, pressing their bodies together. There was nothing to stop them, now, and they made their way to the bed, shedding clothes as they went. When Myka was inside her, Helena let out a cry that sounded almost like relief. It _felt_ like relief, like this was something that they had tried and failed to do so many times. She looked up at the clear eyes of the woman holding her heart and let out a sob of joy, throwing her head back as she came apart beneath Myka. She understood, for a moment, why some cultures thought of sex as sacred. Because it was nothing, that moment, if not holy. She had never felt anything remotely like it. An orgasm was one thing – she was still enough of a scientist to carefully note the difference between a simple orgasm and whatever it was that Myka had just done to her. She felt profoundly free, blissful, safe. As Myka kissed her reverently, she whispered the words she had wanted to say even before Egypt, before Yellowstone.

 

“I love you, Myka.”

 

Myka smiled at her, a disbelieving, joyful smile.

 

“I love you too, Helena. I’ve loved you for such a long time,” she murmured, her fingers running through Helena’s hair.

 

Helena closed her eyes, something deep inside her chest relaxing as she realised that Myka loved her. After a short time, however, her heart stuttered in her chest, and suddenly it felt as if she was drowning, dying, and Myka’s eyes were wide with concern.

 

“Helena, what…”

 

Helena was dying. The strength was bleeding from her, and Myka was looking at her in horror. She could feel the life fleeing her body. Her heart fluttered weakly and then stopped. She looked into Myka’s eyes, wanting them to be the last thing she saw. She tried to speak, but the breath had fled her lungs.

 

The world began to fade into grey and black and she tried again to speak, tried to tell Myka that she loved her. Then the music that lingered at the edge of her awareness suddenly stopped, and Helena’s mind cleared, her heart twitching back into its normal rhythm. She found herself lying flat on the earth in a damp cave that smelled of moss and fungus. Myka was lying next to her, looking dazed and lost. They were both, mercifully, fully dressed. There were a number of other people there, children and adults, all looking confused and lost. And there, by the cave entrance, was a grim Pete Lattimer and a frightened Claudia Donovan. The latter threw herself at Helena, wrapping herself around Helena and sobbing in her ear.   

 

“I’m so sorry, HG. I’m sorry.”

 

She retained enough composure to return Claudia’s embrace, sitting them both up gently, and she murmured, “It’s okay, darling,” over and over in Claudia’s ear, rubbing her back until the girl stopped sobbing. When Claudia was calm, she moved away from Helena a little, taking Helena’s hand as if making sure she was still there. Helena looked up to see expressions of loss and loneliness on the faces around her - including Pete’s.

 

“I guess we should go back, get some sleep,” Pete said, shortly, without looking at anyone. He called in a police officer from outside who began to escort the other missing people away, presumably to be looked over by a doctor and to have their statements taken.

 

Helena’s mind was whirling, and she turned to look at Myka. She was expecting guilt and confusion, because what they had done was at odds with who Myka was – Myka was not a cheater. They were under the influence of an artefact, so they were not at fault, but she knew that Myka must be feeling guilt. What she did not expect when she met Myka’s eyes was to once again be faced with that neutral mask that she had come to detest. Myka held her eyes for only a moment before looking away, her jaw clenched. Helena’s hand went unconsciously to her lips as she looked at the woman she had just shared the most intimate of moments with – the woman who was currently avoiding her gaze. Helena decided to hold her tongue, following Myka in silence as she left the cave. They walked silently through the darkness, following the twin beams of Pete and Claudia’s torches through the long grass.

 

When they reached the B&B, they went to the room that Myka and Helena, and then Myka and Pete, had shared. Pete sat on the edge of the room’s small desk and told them what had happened.

 

“The kid’s girlfriend came to find me. The last body we found was her little brother, so she turned her boyfriend in. He says he didn’t know that people were dying, but she says he did. And those bodies didn’t find their way into the lake by themselves. Anyway, that’s the local police’s problem now. The girlfriend took us to the cave and we found you all there. Claudia tesla’d him, and we bagged the artefact. So I guess we’re done. I…uh, I’m going to go for a walk. Myka, could we talk, later?”

 

Myka nodded mutely and he gathered his belongings, packing his bags quickly and taking them with him. They watched him go in silence. Claudia was sitting with her arm threaded through Helena’s, not wanting to move, it appeared. Myka was on the other bed opposite, staring at her shoes.

 

“What happened to you guys in there? We almost lost you,” Claudia said, into the silence.

 

Helena looked at her for a long moment, trying to decide what to say.

 

“I…I didn’t want to return, Claudia. I was with Christina. I was being selfish. I have been so very weary. It seemed the better option. I am so sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.”

 

Claudia stared at her for a moment, and then wrapped her in another rib-crushing embrace.

 

“I’m sorry. I missed you, HG. I was just mad. I…please don’t go, not again?” There was nothing in her of the Caretaker, just then. She was all youth and insecurity and fear.

 

Helena drew back, smiling. She tucked a stray lock of Claudia’s hair behind her ear tenderly.

 

“I’m here, Claudia. I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Her eyes sought Myka’s. Myka looked at her again with that painfully polite expression, and Helena’s stomach twisted.

 

“Really? You’re staying?” Claudia repeated, sounding very much like a lost child.

 

Helena searched Myka’s eyes. Myka met her gaze, but there was no emotion there, nothing that would have indicated that she had made love to Helena with exquisite tenderness not an hour before.  

 

“I have nowhere else to go, Claudia. You know that,” Helena said heavily, fighting back tears.

 

Claudia looked from Helena to Myka, and suddenly stood, muttering something about packing and early starts. She left the room hurriedly, closing the adjoining door behind her softly.

 

The silence she left in her wake grew thick. Helena forced herself to look at Myka again, to meet her eyes.

 

“Do you remember everything, Myka?” she asked, afraid that Myka had perhaps forgotten what had happened under the influence of the artefact.

 

“Yes,” Myka said softly, her eyes dark and unreadable. “You were dying, Helena. I was watching you die. How could you… just give up like that?”

 

Helena sighed.

 

“I was happy with Christina, even if it was a lie.” She shook her head, taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “Why did you…? You let go of whatever was keeping you out of the dream. And then we were back in your room at Leena’s, the day – when we defeated Sykes.”

 

Myka held her gaze for a long moment before speaking, her eyes a mystery.

 

“Yes, we were back at Leena’s,” she said heavily. “I thought if I dropped the artefact, you would pick it up to save me. But it pulled me in, it pulled us both in. And then… what happened - that was a mistake, Helena. I can’t… I don’t think that Pete and I are going to be together, not after everything. But what happened between us - it shouldn’t have happened, Helena. I’m sorry,” she said, her tone softening slightly as she apologised. But only slightly. Clearly, there was to be no joyful reunion between them.

 

Helena’s heart hammered in her chest. Her body was almost 150 years old. She feared she could not survive this possibility being taken from her. She could not deal with the memory of Myka making love to her if she could never have it again. Her eyes brimmed.

 

“I better go talk to Pete. I’ll see you later, Helena,” Myka said crisply, standing and then leaving the room before Helena had a chance to respond.

 

A few seconds later, Claudia came through the door adjoining their rooms, sitting next to Helena on the bed awkwardly.

 

“So, you guys did the wild thing while you were in the artefact, huh?” Claudia asked sympathetically.

 

“Yes,” Helena said, tears welling up as she took in the fact that Myka still didn’t want her, even after she had made love to Helena so reverently.

 

“I’m sorry, HG. I wish I could tell you that she’ll come round, but I really don’t know what’s going on with her right now. First this thing with her and Pete, then Pete dumps her, and now this?”

 

“Pete broke up with Myka?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“Yeah – just before she went back to get you.”

 

“Why?” Helena asked.

 

“It’s not really my place to tell you,” Claudia said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I thought you knew, or I wouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s all right, Claudia. I understand. Perhaps Myka will see fit to tell me herself. If not, I’m sure I’ll survive.”

 

Helena closed her eyes for a long moment, holding her breath as she tried to take in what had happened since they arrived here in Scotland.

 

“I think I will try to get some sleep, now, Claudia, if that’s okay with you. It’s been a difficult week.”

 

Claudia nodded, her face concerned.

 

“Sure. But call me if you need me, okay? I know I haven’t been the best friend, but I’m here now.”

 

Helena smiled softly and nodded. At least one good thing had come of this debacle. She had always valued Claudia’s friendship, and it was no small thing to have it restored. Even if Myka still looked at her as if Helena was someone she used to know, but didn’t particularly care for. Helena decided that the first thing she was going to do when they returned to the Warehouse was to check what the artefact actually did and what the significance was of the dreams experienced therein. She took a long shower and went to bed, pretending to be asleep when Myka returned. She spent a large portion of the night lying awake, listening to Myka’s breathing from the other bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward journey home, Helena does some research, and Myka goes for a trip into Artie’s brain. I think this will be the penultimate chapter, with a rather long and wordy one to finish this story. Thank you all for reading.

* * *

Their journey home was interminable and awkward in a way that Helena had rarely before experienced. Pete was not talking to anyone, Myka was only talking to Claudia, and Claudia was trying desperately to make up for her previous treatment of Helena despite the tension. She chatted to Helena throughout the trip home, and while her conversation was engaging enough, Helena found it difficult to concentrate. They were on the first of their 3 flights and Myka was sitting next to her, in the aisle seat, with Claudia on her other side at the window. Sitting next to Myka was very much akin to being next to one of Helena’s previous neighbours - the statues in the Bronze Sector. Myka sat ramrod straight, apparently deeply absorbed in whatever she was reading, but Helena noticed that she rarely turned a page. Helena, for her part, said nothing to Myka other than the odd polite “Excuse me,” or “Thank you,” as Myka moved to let her out of her seat or passed her drink across from the flight attendant. Pete drove them home from the airport after the final flight had touched down, and since he clearly did not want to speak to Myka, Claudia was riding shotgun, leaving Helena and Myka once again seated next to one another in the back of the car. Helena wanted to reach out, to touch Myka, to shake her, even – anything to try to understand what had happened between them while they were under the influence of the artefact, and what Myka was thinking now. To understand how Myka could possibly think that what had happened between them was a mistake.  She sensed from Myka’s extremely rigid posture, however, than any overtures from her would be unwelcome. She therefore held her tongue once again and decided to bide her time until she knew what the artefact did. If it did what Helena thought, then she would confront Myka, rigid posture or not, and resolve matters between them once and for all.

 

That night, Pete returned to the B&B only to retrieve his belongings. He was taking some time away from the Warehouse to work some things out, he said. He stopped by Helena’s room before he left. Myka had retired to her room as soon as they arrived at the B&B, her door closing and locking behind her with a decisive click.

 

“Pete, I’m so…” Helena began. He held up his hand where he stood in the doorway of Helena’s room, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t apologise, HG. This whole thing – we all fucked up. I knew she still loved you, underneath it all. I knew she loved me but I wasn’t really sure she was in love with me. I just wanted to believe it because I’m in love with her. What you did to her in Boone – that was what started it off, but I can’t say I don’t understand why you did that. Some days I think that all this isn’t worth it for what we give up – for the people we lose on the way.”

 

She smiled at him gently.

 

“And yet…”

 

He grinned after a moment.

 

“Yeah. And yet.”

 

He gave her a crushing hug.

 

“Whatever’s happening between you two - take care of her, Helena. Don’t fuck it up this time. I don’t think you’ll get another chance.”

 

She sighed.

 

“I will do my best, Pete. If she lets me.”

 

He nodded and left her room quietly.

 

The following day they all made their way to the Warehouse for inventory duty. Before she went out to her designated section of the endless aisles, Helena cornered Artie.

 

“Artie, I need to know what the artefact did. More specifically, I need to know what the significance was of the dreams I had while I was there. Do you have any information on it?”

 

He peered at her in confusion, adjusting his glasses as he took in her expression.

 

“I was still researching it when Claudia and Pete found the boy’s girlfriend. Everything’s over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely to a large pile of files and documents in the corner. “You can research to your heart’s content,” he said, taking her clipboard from her.

 

“But I have inventory to…”

 

“Never mind that,” Artie interrupted gruffly. “It’ll still be there tomorrow. Go. Research. Find!” he exclaimed, shooing her away. From the exaggerated way he moved, Helena could tell that he was trying to dissuade her from commenting on his uncharacteristic kindness, and so she simply nodded quietly and went to the corner to begin her research.

 

After a day’s reading, she was still no closer to a conclusion. The artefact drew the victim into a dream from which they did not wish to escape, but it was not clear on the nature of that dream - was the artefact was able to identify and reproduce the person’s happiest place, or was it just a simple fantasy or delusion constructed to attract the person into staying long enough that the artefact could suck them dry? Most of the material she read was irrelevant at best, complete rubbish at worst. She gave up for the day with a sigh and returned to the B&B, taking her dinner to her room to avoid any further awkwardness with Myka, who was avoiding her eyes when they did see each other.

 

The following day she came across a definitive statement in the research describing the artefact, and she almost whooped with joy when she read it.

 

_“The flute induces a dream-state in which the person attracted by the artefact is given their heart’s desire. In the case that a person’s heart is conflicted, it is believed that the artefact will pick one option and change the scenario if it is unsuccessful in persuading the victim to stay. Some of those who have survived the artefact’s influence have stated that their dream changed part of the way through their time in its clutches, changing from one possible partner to another or to a different scenario entirely, perhaps concerning a time when their family were all together. The dreams experienced while asleep within the dream-state are believed to be the victim’s own consciousness trying to assert itself.”_

 

“See? Heart’s desire! Now she can’t bloody argue,” she muttered to herself.

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mrs Frederic said, leaning over Helena’s shoulder. Helena jumped so hard that she dropped the file she was reading, and she reddened as she collected the pages she had flung to the four winds.

 

“Yes, Mrs Frederic,” she said, eventually. “I did.”

 

“Good,” Mrs Frederic said, her lips curving into an almost-smile. “I would advise you to wait until later this evening before bringing this information to Agent Bering’s attention. I believe she may be more receptive after she and Artie return from their journey.”

 

“Their journey?” Helena repeated, her eyebrows raised.

 

“Yes,” Mrs Frederic said, her own eyebrow raised in apparent amusement. Clearly she was not planning to offer any more information.

 

Helena nodded, gathering together the relevant material and putting on her coat. When she went to speak to Mrs Frederic again, the woman was gone.

 

~

 

Myka was conflicted, more conflicted than she had ever been before. She had dropped the cat statue partly in the hope that putting herself at risk would make Helena come to her senses; that Helena would pick up the statue and take them both from the dream. The other part of her was just plain mad, mad that Helena was throwing her life away for no good reason, and Myka decided that she wasn’t going to let Helena die alone. Myka had miscalculated, however, and the artefact, the Pied Piper’s flute, had drawn her into a fantasy of Helena’s. Or drawn Helena into hers, maybe. She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, after everything. Her relationship with Pete was over, and he was gone. And Helena – Myka couldn’t let herself go there, not after everything. Helena had hurt her so much already; she didn’t have the strength to go through that again. What they had shared while under the influence of the artefact – it had been incredible, it had moved her in a profound way. The strength of that feeling, however, had convinced her even more strongly that she needed to stay away from Helena. If – or more likely when – Helena freaked out and disappeared again, it would hurt all the more, and Myka wasn’t sure she could survive the pain a second time. So she withdrew, said it was a mistake. She knew she should have spoken to Helena about it properly, should have said something more than she was sorry and it couldn’t happen again, but she was pretty sure that if she was in a room alone with Helena for longer than a minute or two, it _would_ happen again, but she wanted Helena so badly that she ached every time she saw her. She had successfully managed to avoid Helena since they woke in the cave under the castle ruins, but only because Helena was leaving her to her own devices. Myka hadn’t expected that. The way she’d left things – she’d expected Helena to shout at her, to try to persuade her that they were good together, but Helena had said nothing, just looking at her in silence with those wounded eyes. Helena’s silence just emphasised to Myka that this was a bad idea; that _they_ were a bad idea. Myka was standing in one of the endless aisles of the Warehouse, working on inventory and trying to keep Helena out of her head – and trying to ignore the pain she felt every time she thought of Pete and how broken he was when he left.

 

_“I love the Warehouse, Mykes, but I can’t stay. I need time to get my head right. I love you, and you don’t love me. You stayed with me all this time and you knew. I should have realised, but I didn’t. And you should have told me, Myka. I deserved that from you. So now I have to go.”_

_He turned to leave, and she called him back, but he just turned and shook his head._

_“Goodbye, Myka.”_

 

And now she was crying in the aisles of the Warehouse, trying not to think of how much she’d hurt her best friend, a man who’d never done anything but love her. And trying desperately not to think about how right it had felt to be with Helena, to touch her, to make love to her.

 

She was reading a description of an artefact she’d never heard of before, a hat from the French Revolution, trying to lose herself in the details, when she heard Artie shuffling along the aisle behind her with Trailer in his wake.

 

“Myka. Can you come with me, please? There’s something you need to see.”

 

She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Artie, what do you mean?”

 

“Mrs Frederic has given me instructions to let you see some of my memories. She thinks it might shed some light on a situation that needs some clarification.”

 

Myka frowned.

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

“Quite frankly, Myka, I don’t care. Mrs Frederic told me to do this, therefore I am doing it, regardless of your feelings on the matter,” he barked.

 

That was how she found herself in a quiet area of the Warehouse with Artie and Horace Westlake Frink's Bronze Baby Shoes. She did what she was told, touching the artefact and being drawn into Artie’s mysterious memories.

 

_The past versions of her, Helena, Pete and Artie were standing in the Ovoid Quarantine, in front of Sykes’ bomb, and present-Myka watched in confusion as they tried to get through the bomb casing without any luck._

_“Why aren’t they trying the dhoti? What’s going on, Artie?” she asked the current version of Artie._

_“This is what happened the first time, Myka. Before I turned back time with the Astrolabe,” Artie said sadly, and Myka’s stomach dropped. The first time was when Helena had died. The day Artie had finally told them about Helena’s sacrifice, Myka had cried for three hours, and had only just resisted the urge to drive to Boone, to drag Helena home with her, kicking and screaming if necessary._

_“I don’t want to watch this,” she said, shaking her head._

_“I’m sorry, Myka. Mrs Frederic thinks you need to see this. It’ll be over soon,” he said, his face creased in sympathy._

_She watched in horror as Helena manipulated some very complicated looking wiring, working her technical magic to persuade the Warehouse barrier to cover Artie, Pete and Myka, and leaving Helena herself vulnerable to the blast._

_“You should be safe now,” Helena said, looking directly at Myka’s past self, her face shining with happiness. With what could only be described as love._

_“But you…you’re out there,” Myka heard her past self say._

_Helena explained, but Myka wasn’t listening. She was looking from her past self to this past version of Helena, this woman who was looking at her with adoration painted in every line of her face. Helena was looking at Myka as if she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; as if she couldn’t have been happier to give up her life, as long as it meant saving Myka._

_“Thank you,” Helena mouthed, an incandescent smile on her face. A smile that was just for her, Myka knew. Myka’s heart twisted in her chest at the cruelty of this. In the original timeline, she had kissed Helena for the first time only to lose her in the explosion. Helena looked so happy. She was doing this – sacrificing herself – for Myka. So she could live. She saw her past self smile for Helena’s sake, so that the last thing Helena saw would be Myka’s smile instead of her tears. Helena closed her eyes._

_“I smell apples,” she said, her smile becoming even brighter. Myka watched in horror as that smile dissolved in the fiery conflagration of the Warehouse’s destruction._

“I’m sorry, Myka,” Artie said, awkwardly patting her back as he tried to comfort her. She tried to stop, but the sobs kept bursting from her.

 

“Why did she do that, Artie? Why did she have to do that?” Myka asked, pain thickening her voice.

 

“You know why she did it,” Artie said gently. “Don’t you?”

 

She shook her head, tears soaking into Artie’s ever-present brown coat.

 

“Don’t lie, Myka. You know why she did that. You know why she died with a smile on her face.”

 

Myka eventually calmed down, and took Artie’s handkerchief and blew her nose on it noisily.

 

“Now that’s over with, I think it’s time we went back to the B&B, don’t you?” he said quietly.

 

She nodded, avoiding his eyes, and he led her to the umbilicus and drove her home in silence. When they arrived at the B&B, Myka disappeared upstairs, and he went to the kitchen to see if Abigail had attempted anything for dinner, or if it would be take-out again.

 

Helena found him as he entered the dining area.

 

“Hello, Artie. Is Myka with you?” she asked, her chin jutting out determinedly.

 

“She’s just gone upstairs,” he said.

 

“Good,” Helena said. “Mrs Frederic said you were speaking to her about something – is everything okay?”

 

Artie nodded.

 

“Yes, everything is fine. She is upstairs, and I think you might find her a little more amenable to discussion now. Go, talk. I’ll see you later,” he said gruffly. Helena looked at him, searching his face carefully, and then nodded. Artie nodded in satisfaction to himself. It was about time those two sorted things out. It had been a long time coming. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part. Helena confronts Myka, and they finally talk to one another. Thank you all so much for reading.

Helena walked up the B&B stairs to Myka’s room, a wad of paper in her hands, wondering how she was going to broach the subject of their (currently non-existent) relationship with Myka. One thing was certain; she was not going to allow Myka to dismiss her, to dismiss the possibility of them, as easily as she had done a few days earlier. What was between them – what could be between them – was too important.

 

She knocked on Myka’s door with more confidence than she was feeling. She was surprised when Myka answered the door wearing a soft pair of pyjamas. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and her pale skin was blotchy.

 

“Myka? Are you all right?” Helena asked, concerned.

 

“I’m fine, Helena. Please, come in,” Myka said in a subdued tone. It was, however, more welcoming than any Helena had heard from her in some time. She followed Myka into the room, closing the door behind her and holding her papers to her chest anxiously.

 

Myka sat sideways on the bed, one foot hanging over the edge and touching the floor, the other tucked up underneath her. She didn’t say anything, staring at the bedspread.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Myka?” Helena asked, despite herself. She had come up here to demand Myka talk to her, not to coddle her. But she looked so lost, and Helena couldn’t help herself.

 

“I’m fine,” Myka repeated, but her eyes were still on the bedspread, and Helena went to sit next to her without conscious thought, taking Myka’s hand in hers.

 

“What is it, Myka?” she asked softly, abandoning her research on the bed and tilting Myka’s chin up so that she was forced to meet Helena’s eyes.

 

Myka was crying. She stared at Helena for a moment with tear-filled eyes before throwing herself forward into Helena’s arms, sobbing. Helena was startled, but tightened her arms around Myka, rubbing her back softly.

 

“It’s okay, Myka. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out, don’t worry. Don’t cry, darling.”

 

They sat there for a long time, Myka crying and Helena comforting her as best she could without knowing what was wrong. After some considerable time, Myka calmed down, her body settling from the sobs that had sounded painful as they were torn from her throat. Helena kept up her ministrations, rubbing Myka’s back soothingly and trying not to notice how well their bodies fit together. Myka’s breathing settled back to normal eventually and she drew back, apologising.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Was there something you wanted to talk about?” she said, indicating Helena’s research.

 

“It’s nothing important, darling. What’s happened, Myka? Did Artie say something to upset you? Because I can speak to him. He will not upset you again,” Helena said darkly.

 

Myka let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.

 

“No, he didn’t upset me. He showed me something. It was Mrs Frederic’s idea, apparently.”

 

Helena lifted a hand, cupping Myka’s jaw delicately.

 

“And what did he show you that upset you this much? I have never seen you cry this way, Myka. Please. Talk to me.”

 

Myka took a deep breath, leaning into Helena’s hand on her face for a moment, her eyes closing.

 

“I… he showed me part of the day that he erased with the Astrolabe. He showed me the explosion that destroyed the Warehouse.”

 

Helena’s breath caught.

 

“How?”

 

“Horace Westlake Frink's Bronze Baby Shoes,” Myka said, sniffling a little. Helena handed her a handkerchief from the pocket of her waistcoat absently.

 

“I hadn’t thought of that. I imagine it must have been overwhelming to witness,” Helena said, her tone bland. She removed her hand from Myka’s face, running it through her own hair distractedly. 

 

Myka laughed, a little bitterly. “You could say that.”

 

Helena took a breath and looked up at Myka.

 

“I gather you saw my death,” Helena said, her voice expressionless. Myka nodded. 

 

“And it upset you this much?”

 

“Of course!” Myka said indignantly.

 

“You will forgive my surprise, I’m sure, Myka. As it has seemed for rather a long time that you were indifferent to my continued existence.”

 

Helena looked away, carefully studying the pictures on Myka’s dresser.

 

“I’m not indifferent, Helena. I just… I didn’t want to get hurt again.”

 

Helena nodded stiffly. She had come here to change Myka’s mind, to show her that their relationship meant something, that _they_ were worth saving. But clearly Myka had made her mind up.

 

“Perfectly understandable. Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed you this evening. I hope you feel better,” Helena said tonelessly, standing up and collecting her research without looking at Myka. She went to the door and was gone from the room before Myka could react. When she reached her own room she dropped the research on her desk and stood by the window, giving in to her own tears. It was time she gave up on Myka. She had clearly damaged their relationship irretrievably by hiding away in Boone and while it was possible that they might be friends again one day, it did not appear as if there would ever be anything more between them.

 

The door opened behind her and she didn’t notice, lost as she was in her own thoughts, her regret and pain. She was, therefore, startled when Myka pushed her hair away from her neck, leaning forward to kiss her neck and shoulders where her collar was slightly open at the top. Myka’s hands found hers, which were screwed into fists at her sides, and gently eased them open, lacing their fingers together. Helena’s breath caught in her throat. Myka’s body was warm and strong, and her mouth was delicate and soft against Helena’s neck. She wanted nothing more than to sink back into Myka, to turn and kiss her, to be lost in Myka’s arms. But only moments before she had told herself to let this go, to forget Myka Bering. Her jaw tightened.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena,” Myka murmured, kissing the side of her neck, making Helena shiver. “I don’t want to get hurt again. But I can’t fight this anymore. I don’t even want to try. You died for me. You looked me in the eye and you smiled at me and thanked me for letting you die for me. I can’t lose you again.” She slid her hands up the outsides of Helena’s arms, her fingers leaving a line of goosebumps in their wake, and turned Helena gently to face her.  

 

“I love you,” she said, holding Helena’s gaze. Helena swallowed, unsure of what to say or do in the face of this unexpected declaration. Myka saved her from making any sort of decision, however, by drawing her into a kiss. Myka’s mouth was hot and insistent on hers and her hands were cupping Helena’s face gently. Helena found herself quite unable to resist, despite her thoughts of just a moment ago. After a short while, Myka drew back, looking at Helena with both pain and adoration in her gaze.

 

“I’m not indifferent, Helena. I love you. I’ve just been scared, and I’ve been hiding. I thought if I could just stay with Pete, I could be content and that would be enough.”

 

She kissed Helena again, slow and deep, and Helena was once again unable to resist reciprocating. Her previously well-organised thoughts and arguments were fleeing under the onslaught of Myka’s lips and tongue. And her teeth. Oh God, her _teeth_.

 

“What happened between us when we were in there, with the artefact – it frightened me, Helena. Because I’ve never felt that kind of connection with anyone before. The thought of having that with you and then losing you again – it terrified me. It _terrifies_ me. I can’t lose you again, Helena. Watching you – watching you die - it was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen. I can’t do that again. I can’t lose you.”

 

Helena stared. It was one thing to have a plan to demand from Myka that she be truthful about her feelings, but quite another to have Myka come to her, to be kissed this way. It was making her head spin and she was quite lost for words. To her own surprise, she began to cry, first silently, and then small sobs escaped her as she stared at Myka.

 

“What’s wrong? Should I not have kissed you?” Myka said, staring at her in confusion.

 

“No, it’s…” Helena took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. She was unsuccessful. After a moment, Myka gathered Helena into her arms, kissing her hair and murmuring nonsense.

 

After a few moments Helena drew back, searching her pockets and coming up with her spare handkerchief, which she used to wipe her nose and eyes.

 

“What is it, Helena?” Myka asked, taking both of Helena’s hands in hers.

 

“I… you told me you loved me, Myka, when we were in the artefact dream. And then a few hours later you told me it was all a mistake. I don’t think I can take it again, Myka. You kissing me – it’s wonderful, but I don’t want to get used to it,” Helena said, looking at their joined hands.

 

Myka looked guilt stricken.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I am so sorry that I was so afraid. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I love you. You mean everything to me, and I’ve been running away from that for far too long. We can go as fast or as slow as you like, honey. But I think it’s time we gave this a real try,” Myka said, tilting Helena’s head up so that she would meet her gaze. Helena looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded, biting her lip.

 

“I’m sorry – I interrupted you, before. What did you want to speak to me about?” Myka asked, tilting her head curiously as she ran a finger across Helena’s jaw reverently.

 

“Well, the point would now appear to be moot, but you were acting as if what happened between us in Scotland didn’t matter. So I was searching for some information, some sort of proof to persuade you that it did. It appears that I need not have bothered, since Artie and Mrs Frederic seem to have interfered in a rather timely manner,” Helena said, flushing slightly.

 

“And what did you find?” Myka prompted gently.

 

“I found… that the artefact gives a person their heart’s desire, or at least one of them. So I was somewhat reassured that, by giving you the dream it did, it was giving you something you desired more than, or at least as much as, anything else.” Helena realised she was rambling and stopped for a moment to take a breath before continuing. “I was going to confront you and try to break through that damnably blank mask you’ve perfected, to make you see that I matter, that we matter,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

 

Myka flushed. Her face was anything but blank now. Shame was painted across her features.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. It was the only way I knew to survive, with you so close all the time. You hurt me so badly. I’m not saying that I haven’t behaved badly; I know I have. But you… well, seeing you in Boone, with that guy and his kid – I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. It was one of the worst moments of my life, and I have a lot of really shitty moments to compare it to, so I know what I’m talking about. I thought – after Giselle – that I would never see you again.” She moved to sit on the bed, scooting backwards so that her back was against the wall. She sighed.

 

“I didn’t _want_ to see you again. After everything, I thought I was done – I thought that we were done. But then you came back and I just didn’t know how to be near you. So I pulled away. Being with Pete was easy and I am so ashamed of myself, because I used that – I used him, so that I could hide from you. It didn’t work, clearly, because here we are. I can’t lose you again, Helena,” she said, the sincere love in her gaze making Helena’s breath catch in her throat.

 

Helena took a deep breath, trying to take in the implications of Myka’s words.

 

“Are you sure about this, Myka? Because I believe I need you to be sure. After Lockerbie, I need to know that I won’t wake up tomorrow to that other Myka,” she said, her lips trembling as she tried to maintain her composure.

 

“Come here, Helena,” Myka said. Helena went to her, unsure of what to expect. She sat next to Myka, settling herself gingerly. As she did so, Myka took her hand, running her thumb across Helena’s knuckles.

 

 “I am here, and I’ll be here tomorrow. I’ve spent enough time running from you, Helena. This job is dangerous, and I’ve wasted enough time running from the inevitable,” Myka murmured, her face close to Helena’s, her breath hot on Helena’s cheek. She leaned a little and kissed Helena. Helena lost herself in Myka’s touch, in the overwhelming depth of her own feelings for Myka.  

 

“I love you, Helena,” Myka said, in between kisses, and that was enough for Helena. She gave in and stopped thinking, stopped worrying. She lost herself in kissing Myka, in the physical sensation of Myka’s mouth, hot on hers, and Myka’s fingers first in her hair and then trailing along her neck and jaw.

 

After a while Helena drew back, with some difficulty, to collect her thoughts and to try to make sense of the events of the day. Myka watched her carefully as she ran a hand through her hair, lost in thought.

 

“Can you tell me, Myka, why it is that Pete broke up with you? Claudia wouldn’t tell me,” she asked, trying to put the pieces in place, because despite her body’s reaction to Myka, she still was not comfortable that matters were resolved enough for them to move on, to begin anything together in the shadow of Myka’s relationship with Pete.

 

Myka looked at her for a moment before dropping her eyes to her own lap.

 

“He said that he’d realised that I was still in love with you. That I didn’t love him the way he loved me.”

 

“And is that true?” Helena asked softly.

 

“Yes,” Myka said, without looking up. “He looked at me like I’d broken his heart, Helena. I guess I did. I used him so I could feel safe. I can’t believe I drove him away from the Warehouse,” she said in a whisper.

 

Helena sighed, half in sorrow for what Pete must be going through, and half in relief.

 

“It will take time, but he will forgive you, Myka. He must have known, deep down. His vibes, as he calls them. They must have told him that you were not truly meant for one another.”

 

Myka’s eyes widened.

 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that.” But then her shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t make any difference, though, does it? I still did it, with full knowledge of how much it would hurt him if he knew that I didn’t feel the same.”

 

Helena shrugged.

 

“I understand that, my darling. I simply wanted to point out that you were not the only one practising a deceit upon the other. He is intuitive and I doubt very much that he was entirely unaware that your feelings for him were different to his for you. And I believe that he will meet someone who truly fits him. But Pete Lattimer, wonderful though he is, was never a good match for you, Myka. You deserve someone who appreciates how unique and wonderful your mind truly is.”

 

She kissed Myka’s hand gently. Myka shivered slightly, watching Helena with eyes heavy from tiredness and the many tears she had shed over the past few days.

 

“I bear a lot of responsibility for this, Myka. Had I not been so cruel in Wisconsin, you would never have mistaken your friendship with Peter for something else.”

 

Myka closed her eyes.

 

“Would you mind…? I still don’t think I really understand, why you went there, why you stayed there.”

 

Helena dropped her gaze to her own hands, now joined in her lap.

 

“It is hard to explain. It is hard even for me to understand, I’m afraid. You know that I was tasked by Mrs Frederic to take the Astrolabe and disappear?” At Myka’s nod, she continued. “I stayed on the move for weeks. I eventually decided that it was no more risky to stay put somewhere anonymous than it was to keep moving. I thought briefly about Wyoming and Emily Lake, but at the time I didn’t know what this evil was, and it could have been Claudia – it could even have been you. And you all knew where Emily Lake had lived and worked. I was starting to feel like I was back in Bronze, Myka. I was so isolated. So I stopped at the first large settlement I found. Boone. I had money from Mrs Frederic, but I was bored and I was lonely, so I decided to find a job. As I told you at the time, I learned the basics of forensics from CSI and its like on television, but I did study a lot to ensure that I was doing a good job. I decided to take a cookery class because I thought it was ridiculous that I was unable to make anything more complex than scrambled eggs at my age. I met Nate and Adelaide and I let myself live in a fantasy.”

 

Myka took in a sharp breath when she said Nate’s name.

 

“You were right, you know, when you said I was chasing a ghost. I was trying to be happy, Myka, after all the horror that the Warehouse – well, the Regents, really - had inflicted upon me. I was so happy when Christina was alive, it made sense when Adelaide came along to try to recapture that happiness.”

 

Myka smiled at her gently, but her eyes were still sad.

 

“I began my relationship with Nate because of Adelaide. She is an exceptional child, as I am sure you noticed. He was not exceptional, but he was pleasant and caring and when I was with him things felt…predictable. Not perhaps the most thrilling description, but after losing Christina and almost killing you in the Regent Sanctum, predictable felt good. I let myself settle there with them. Mrs Frederic called me and told me about Leena, about Arthur. I was told to return the Astrolabe to the Brotherhood, which I did, dutifully. And then Mrs Frederic asked me what I wanted to do. I had her permission to return then, Myka. And I did not. I…Pete would say that I chickened out. I thought of seeing you, and the guilt of everything I’d done before choked me. The weight of being HG Wells, homicidal maniac – it felt crushing. And everything in Boone was simple and safe and effortless.”

 

She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and she put her head in her hands.

 

“When I called you, Myka…I didn’t want to. I’m sure that was obvious. I was…I was cold, I was distant. I was trying to push you away. I kept seeing your face – the way you trusted me as that blade came closer and closer to your head in that chess lock… I thought that if you were away from me, you would be safer. Because since I arrived here in this time I have brought you nothing but pain. I convinced myself that I was helping you, that by pretending that you meant nothing to me I was protecting you from any future pain I might cause you.”

 

Myka was staring at her incredulously.

 

“You…you really believed that? Or was that just what you were telling yourself? I don’t understand, Helena. Because you _saved_ me, that day. Without you I would have died. You solved the puzzle, Helena. Without you I would have just been another body rotting in that Sanctum. And… Jesus, Helena. I know you have caused me pain. Yellowstone was no picnic. But you changed me, Helena. You brought me alive, in ways I didn’t expect or want or imagine. But I have never felt anything remotely like what I feel when you’re near me. Like part of me never stopped flying after you saved me with that grappler.”

 

Helena stared at her, eyes filling with tears once again.

 

“You have always had the soul of a poet, Myka,” she murmured, staring unashamedly.

 

They stared at one another for a moment. Myka smiled and Helena continued.

 

“I convinced myself that I was doing it for you. And in part I believe I really was, Myka. Because since Christina I cannot help but feel that I am destined to lose the ones that matter most to me. In any case, I stubbornly pushed you away in Boone. Do you remember what I said to you in those woods before Pete tried to destroy the Janus coin?”

 

Myka nodded.

 

“You know me better than anyone else, but I know you, too. I knew exactly what to say to you to push you away, but it wasn’t true, Myka. I hope you know that. I…have never felt this way, about anyone. I have never been happier than when I am with you.”

 

She paused for a moment, sighing.

 

“I don’t even know how to apologise for what I said. It seems insurmountable, in a way. But I am so, so deeply sorry, Myka. When you left Boone, I tried to forget you, I really did. I wasn’t doing a great job, however. Nate tried to accept the new me, but I suspect he was a little too ordinary to easily accept the reality of artefacts. I never did tell him who I really am. Our relationship never returned to its former state. The final nail in the coffin was your text message.”

 

Myka breathed in sharply.

 

“I…I’d almost forgotten that. I thought I was dying, and I wanted to let you go. I wasn’t even sure it had sent.”

 

“Well, it certainly did. I didn’t know what to make of it, and I decided to ignore it, in yet another extremely cowardly act. But after that I couldn’t pretend any more. I left Nate and Adelaide and I moved on to New York. I met Giselle, who worked in the same lab, and we had an affair – a few months – and then that, too, ended. My heart wasn’t in it. My heart wasn’t _there_ ; it was here. Where I’d left it.”

 

She looked up and met Myka’s eyes for a moment.

 

“So I suppose the question is – can you forgive me? Of all the things I have done in my life, Myka, what I did to you that day in Boone was perhaps the cruellest and the lowest. I didn’t even dare to hope that you might forgive me.”

 

Myka rolled her eyes ostentatiously and smiled.

 

“I have already forgiven you, Helena. I just…I needed to know why. I didn’t understand why you were such an asshole to me that day, and I didn’t understand why you didn’t come back after what happened between us. Because when we kissed - I have never felt like that before, not with anyone.”

 

Helena smiled tentatively.

 

“So, does that mean you do understand? I am not sure I do, myself.”

 

Myka smiled, a little sadly this time.

 

“Not entirely, Helena. I don’t understand why you did things that way. You hurt me, a lot. But it’s the past, and we have a chance, a real chance, to be together. I don’t want to waste it. So while I can’t forget it,” she tapped her head with a wry smile, “I can forgive you. As long as you promise not to run out on me again. Because I don’t think I could take it again, Helena.”

 

Her face was bleak, and Helena’s heart twisted at the pain she had caused.

 

“I promise, Myka,” she said, meaning it with her whole heart. “I promise that I will not leave you again.”

 

Myka smiled, something in her demeanour lightening at Helena’s words. Helena smiled back at her hesitantly, and she felt some of the weight that had been pulling her down lift away.

 

“So,” she said, “I hope you will not take it amiss if I ask you to stay here, tonight. I am not proposing anything other than sleep. I would like it very much, however, if we could sleep next to one another for the first time. I have missed you so dreadfully, Myka.”

 

Myka smiled at her, nodding. They did not speak much more that evening, but Helena felt the pressure in her chest ease when they went to bed and Myka wrapped her long body around Helena’s, kissing the side of her neck before wishing her a good night. 

 

_Helena held Rebecca’s hand, stroking the older agent’s knuckles with the pad of her thumb as she felt the pulse under her fingertips weaken and then cease._

_“Is she gone?” came Myka’s quiet voice from behind her as she gently placed Rebecca’s hand on the arm of the chair._

_Helena turned, trying to fight back tears._

_“Yes,” she managed, trying desperately to keep herself together. This day – it had all been too much. Talking with Claudia about Christina’s death, Arthur holding her at gunpoint, Myka almost dying - Rebecca gladly going to her death just to have one more moment in which she was truly happy. For a moment, Helena had truly envied the dying woman._

_She turned quickly as the Time Machine began to spark behind her, and hurriedly flipped the switches to end the flow of power to her ailing invention. She stayed there for a moment, hiding behind a curtain of hair, her head bowed. She didn’t want Myka to see her like this – weak, broken. She started as a hand touched her shoulder gently._

_“It’s okay, Helena. You would have to be dead on the inside not to feel anything. And what you did for Rebecca – I think it was wonderful. She got to be with Jack for her last moments. I don’t think any of us could ask for more than to be with the person we love as we leave this world.”_

_Helena tried to hold it in, but a sob escaped her, and then another. Myka turned Helena gently to face her and pulled her close, holding her tightly and rubbing her back slowly, soothing her as she cried. It was the first time Helena had ever felt really safe in another’s arms. It was also the moment when she realised that she was in love with Myka Bering. But it was too late. The emails had already been sent; the boys were already on their way to Warehouse 2. She had no way to contact them now. It was too late, and she was damned, no matter what she did. The knowledge tore at her, and she sobbed even harder, with Myka whispering soft words of comfort in her ear. She loved Myka. What should have been a joyous revelation was instead bitter; bitter in the face of her plans, her betrayal._

“It’s okay, Helena. I’m here,” Myka whispered, holding Helena tightly in her arms. Helena fought the confinement for a moment before realising where she was.

 

“You were crying in your sleep,” Myka said in a drowsy, concerned murmur. Helena relaxed and turned her body slightly to slip her arm around Myka.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was having a bad dream.”

 

“What about?” Myka asked in concern.

 

“I…well, it was before Yellowstone. The night when Rebecca asked to use the Time Machine.”

 

Myka pulled back a little to look at Helena carefully.

 

“I get why that might have made you a little sad. Crying in your sleep though? Why?”

 

“You held me, that night. Do you remember? It was the first time we had really touched at all, since Tamalpais and the grappler. I was crying, after all the madness of that day. Artie held me at gunpoint, you nearly died, and then Rebecca passed away – it was all too much. And when you held me, I realised.”

 

“Realised what?” Myka asked, her eyes wide with concern.

 

“I realised that I was falling in love with you. And that it was too late to stop what I’d started.”

 

“You mean Warehouse 2?”

 

“Yes,” Helena said, her eyes dropping from Myka’s in shame.

 

“Hey,” Myka said, sharply, lifting Helena’s chin with one finger. “Don’t do that. I told you before. You’re not the bad guy, Helena. You were sick. You were hurting. None of us saw it, and we should have. If it wasn’t for me being so blinded by my stupid hero worship, and then my feelings for you, I might have realised. I might have seen that you needed help. If Artie hadn’t been such an ass, he would have realised what the Bronze did to you. We all made mistakes, Helena. You have more than made up for yours. So stop with all this guilt, okay? I’m not saying I want you to do it again, but just…just put it behind you, okay? Behind us. Because we’re here now, we’re together. Let yourself be happy, okay? I love you.”

 

Helena stared for a moment, open-mouthed, and then her lips curled into a pleased smile.

 

“Righty-ho then,” she said, smiling so widely that she felt her cheeks begin to hurt.

 

Myka chuckled.

 

“I knew you were going to say that,” she said, smiling softly.

 

Helena kissed her. It was meant to be a simple, chaste acknowledgement of how much Myka’s words meant to her, but intentions were soon shredded and thrown to the wind because Myka was responding so enthusiastically, so beautifully, that Helena was lost. One of her regrets about the time they had spent together in the dream was that she had not been afforded the opportunity to make love to Myka, to witness Myka coming apart beneath her. There was nothing now between them except thin pyjamas and their own reservations, whatever they might be. But soon none of those things were between them, Helena’s reservations having disappeared at around the same time as Myka’s clothing. There was one moment when she almost drew back, when the memory of Myka with Pete intruded, and Helena faltered. But Myka looked down at her, her eyes clear and bright and filled with a mixture of love and intense joy, and Helena’s thoughts cleared as she herself was filled with the same joy. Whatever had happened to bring them here, it was over now. This was all that mattered. And Myka – Myka with her head thrown back, panting Helena’s name – Myka was worth the pain. Was worth _any_ pain.

 

Afterwards, when they had both caught their breath and were firmly wrapped around each other, sweaty but happy, bathing in the afterglow, Helena felt the figurative weight of all that had come between them lift, allowing her to catch her breath.

 

“I love you, you know,” she murmured, and Myka placed a careful kiss on her forehead before answering.

 

“I do know. And I hope that you know how much I love you. How much I have always loved you, even when I was trying my hardest not to love you at all. Especially then,” she said, running her fingers through Helena’s hair, playing with the strands while searching Helena’s eyes.

 

“I do. I know,” Helena murmured, and Myka leaned a little to kiss her. They fell asleep like that, Myka’s hand tangled in Helena’s hair, and their lips almost touching. Helena’s last thought before she slept was that she felt something like peace. Here with Myka, she had found her tether, finally.

 

~

Myka woke up in Helena’s arms, staring at her incredibly black eyelashes against her incredibly pale skin, paler now than it had been even when she was Emily Lake, because she had spent all of her time since she returned either in the Warehouse or inside the B&B, awake until the early hours of the morning writing or inventing. They were lying face to face, and Helena’s hair was, for once, in complete disarray. Myka smiled at the sight. She’d never seen Helena this way, completely vulnerable, her features slack and relaxed in sleep. She was breathing evenly and deeply, her arm heavy on Myka’s waist.

 

The last 24 hours had been a complete surprise to Myka. She had decided, after what happened inside the dream-state induced by the Pied Piper artefact, that despite how intense her feelings for Helena still were, she wasn’t going to go there. No way. Helena had hurt her enough already, and this whole thing had imploded her relationship with Pete. She couldn’t really pretend that she was upset about Pete breaking up with her. She was incredibly upset and guilty that she had hurt Pete the way she had, but as for feeling rejected or sad that they were no longer a couple? No. She was relieved. So, _so_ relieved. She loved Pete, but after she’d made love to Helena in the dream, after the way it had felt to be with her, she knew that she could never ever sleep with Pete again. What she and Pete had was pretty good, where the sex part was concerned. But after the way she felt when she was with Helena – and that was without Helena even _touching_ her – she couldn’t pretend any more. Being with Helena had felt right in a way that she couldn’t articulate, but that she knew she had never felt with Pete. She and Pete were best friends. They should never have been lovers. She should never have allowed it. She blamed Steve and that stupid table with its stupid defining moment. Her defining moment was nothing to do with ninja lesbian suburban housewife cat burglars. Her defining moment was – and would remain – the moment when Helena had swept her off her feet using her grappler. Thinking about that day still made her stomach tighten and her heart race. She had deliberately pushed that memory away, that day at the round table, because she didn’t want to think about Helena – it was too soon after her finding out about Giselle. She had spoken to Mrs Frederic about it afterwards, in a roundabout sort of way, and Mrs F had confirmed that the Table responded in some way to the wishes of the agent – a bit like the sorting hat in Harry Potter – so that was why she had seen the cat burglars instead of the grappler. In any case, she had decided after Scotland that she and Helena were never happening, could never happen, because her feelings were so strong that she didn’t think she would survive if it all went sideways. Better to avoid it, to avoid Helena, until the heat between them dissipated. Because that was sure to happen, she told herself, even though it had already been years and the heat had never cooled, even through the agonies of betrayal and Yellowstone and Boone and Giselle and alternate timelines that nobody even told her about until it was far too late to do anything. The heat was still there, the edge was on, her breath still caught when she saw Helena. She’d managed to successfully school her expression into a flat, neutral mask, but she’d only been able to do that by channelling her hurt and pain into anger, a cold anger that she used to push Helena as far away as she could manage when they lived in the same building.

 

Then Mrs Frederic and Artie had sucker-punched her with the stupid baby shoes and the minute she’d seen what had happened in that alternate timeline, she was sunk. Lost. Defeated. There was no way she could turn Helena away; no way she could tell Helena that she didn’t want her. Because Helena was _all_ she wanted. Helena knocked on her door, and that was it.

 

When Myka was 12 years old, her fencing coach entered her into a local competition. She won the first two rounds without a problem, but the third guy was twice her size. She twisted to avoid a lunge and he knocked her over accidentally, bowling her over in such a way that she almost landed on her head. She dislocated her shoulder and broke two fingers. The fingers she could handle. They were strapped up and although it hurt, it was at least on her left hand so she could still write. The shoulder, however, was painful for weeks as the abused joint slowly healed from having her arm wrenched out, then wrenched back into place. More than that, however, it just felt _wrong_. When they reduced it (as they insisted on saying, when even at 12 she knew it was just a fancy way of saying they were going to snap it back into place) it felt like part of her had been removed, then put back wrong. That was how it had felt for a long time, after Helena had returned. Now Myka felt like all those raw and tender places inside her chest were finally healing. She’d resisted so hard, tried so hard not to let Helena in. All she’d succeeded in doing was breaking Pete’s heart. Claudia was sure that Pete would come back – she’d had one of her freaky Caretaker moments, when it looked like Mrs Frederic was peering out from behind her eyes – and she said, with certainty, that he would be back. The Warehouse wanted him. Myka swore to herself, as she lay in bed taking in every detail of Helena’s sleeping face, that she would make up for what she’d done to Pete, somehow. She would watch a million Star Trek Wars movies if it made him happy. She would read all the comic books in the world if it made things better. She would make him pancakes every day. She was still mentally listing things she would do to make it better when Helena’s eyes fluttered open.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling.

 

“Hey yourself,” Helena said, her voice thick from sleep. Her smile was like the sun rising. Myka’s breath caught at the sight of it, a sudden memory of Helena mouthing “Thank you,” grasping at her heart and squeezing.

 

“I had no chance, did I?” she murmured, before moving forward to kiss Helena.

 

“What?” Helena asked, but Myka just kissed her again, losing herself in the texture of Helena’s hair against her fingers and the taste of her mouth. She tasted the pearl in Helena’s right ear, bit her earlobe sharply and made her gasp. They stayed in bed for hours, just exploring one another, and when hunger drove them to, they showered and went downstairs to find some breakfast.

 

“Good morning, ladies,” Abigail said as they walked into the kitchen, carefully not touching.

 

“Morning,” they both said, nodding. Claudia came into the kitchen behind them.

 

“Way to go, guys,” the Caretaker-to-be said, smirking. She offered Helena a fist bump that she returned limply, bemused.

 

“What do you mean?” Myka asked, alarmed.

 

“I mean, way to go rocking the old bedroom rodeo all night!” Claudia said, stuffing a pancake into her mouth and chasing it with syrup directly from the bottle. Abigail snatched the bottle from her with a scowl.

 

Helena smiled. Claudia was not subtle, but she was endearing. Myka paled, and then blushed extremely prettily.

 

“I… uh - I mean…”  Myka trailed off, coughing and blushing.

 

Abigail laughed.

 

“The walls are really thin, Myka. For what it’s worth, we’re all really happy for you,” Abigail said, smiling.

 

Helena smiled, murmuring, “Thank you,” and slipping her arm around Myka’s waist, kissing her cheek. Myka blushed again and nodded, once, before going to find herself some coffee.

 

They ate breakfast quietly, occasionally smiling at one another softly, and then they took their tea and coffee out to the porch. As they sat overlooking the garden, sipping their drinks, Helena took Myka’s hand absently. Myka started slightly at the sensation, and then remembered that they could do this, now. That it was okay to feel like this, to admit that she felt this way. She could hold Helena’s hand, or touch her, or kiss her. A few short weeks ago she hadn’t even been talking to Helena if she could help it. Now they could touch one another, could kiss one another – could make love to one another. It was a heady freedom, and as Myka focused on the small details – the small callouses on Helena’s palm, her soft skin, and the warmth of her hand in Myka’s - something liquid and soft, like warm honey, settled in Myka’s chest, and her lips curved up in a smile.

 

“I love you, Helena,” she murmured.

 

“And I love you, Myka Bering,” Helena said, bringing Myka’s hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly. The sun warmed Myka’s face and she smiled, watching Helena’s lips turn up in an answering smile. Myka closed her eyes for a moment and realised that for the first time since Helena had disappeared after Sykes, she felt content. She felt sure, sure that this was the right thing, the right person, the right time. Even though Pete wasn’t here, (and she felt his absence keenly) she was content, she was happy. She wasn’t assuming that this relationship would last forever, but however long it did last, she would be grateful for it, grateful for Helena. Because this love, this feeling, it was worth all the pain they’d been through. Helena was a complicated part of her past, but she was now irrevocably part of Myka’s future. She was perhaps the most important part of that future. But for now, Myka would take this feeling, this love, and savour every small moment of sun on her face and the warmth of Helena’s hand in hers, because a Warehouse Agent never knew when they would run out of tomorrows.


End file.
